#its day 2 and I already gained enough approval to be trusted by him before the end of day 1 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

nejibaby · 3 years ago

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Deja Vu

Pairing: Neji x Fem!Uchiha Reader

Summary: Hyuga Hiashi does not approve of your relationship with Neji.

implied established relationship. implied that neji has plans marrying.

Word Count: 2.8k

Memories - Part 1 | Deja Vu - Part 2

A/N: gotta say it started out cute but then bam angst sjdjdens i’m sorry i’m dramatic sumtyms 🤧 please let me know your thoughts 🥺

The Sharingan never forgets.

That’s among one of the few things that’s drilled into your mind as a child born in the Uchiha clan. Before you had even awakened your Sharingan, your late brother, Shishui, had already taught you this.

At a young age, you��ve always thought it was a blessing, especially to a shinobi like you. With the ability of the Sharingan to discern movements and to retain its information better than any other dojutsu, it enables you to progress faster than children your age.

Outside the shinobi life, however, it’s not really that useful, so it’s expected for you not to activate it at all. You don’t need to remember minor details of everyday life after all. But on some of your days off — on special days — although very rarely, you unconsciously activate your Sharingan when you’re with Neji.

It goes without saying that before the war, you’ve already gained quite a bit of control over the use of the Sharingan. You’re able to activate and deactivate it at will, although sometimes your emotions get the better of you and it messes your control. After the war, however, you’ve become adept at controlling both your emotions and your Sharingan, maybe even better than Sasuke.

But whenever Neji surprises you with affectionate gestures, you get so overwhelmed that you just can't control your body, and by extension, your dojutsu too.

No matter how hard you try, you’re unable to stop the blood rushing to your face. You’re unable to calm the violent thumping of your heart. You’re unable to get rid of the fluttering feeling in your stomach. You’re unable to prevent the Sharingan from activating. Especially on the rare occasions that he kisses the back of your hand tenderly after he walks you home, or when he kisses your lips before he leaves for a mission.

Neji isn’t good at romantic gestures, and so he keeps it to a bare minimum. But when he does these things, it always takes you by surprise.

He wouldn’t admit it, but he likes your cute reactions to his unpredictable acts. There’s always this short moment where your mind goes blank and your Sharingan manifests itself. This reassures him of your feelings for him because he knows he’s the only one who’ll be able to pull such a reaction from you. Not that he’s ever doubted you. You’ve always been so vocal about your feelings for him, after all.

On the flip side, while it embarrasses you that you can’t control your Sharingan when you’re with Neji, you like the way they activate themselves at those moments, as they’re able to help you remember the details of its aftermath — like the way Neji would always look down on the floor first before he meets your eyes, his cheeks tinted pink, and with the slightest upturn of his lips, almost as if he, himself, wasn’t expecting the onslaught of emotions that was brought about by his own actions. In mere seconds, you have all these memorized before he pulls away, and you play it over and over again in your mind until you’re branded with a new memory.

But the Sharingan is a curse as much as it is a blessing.

It’s a curse because it reminds you of the cruelty of the world. It doesn’t allow you to forget the scene of the Uchiha clan district after the massacre, even after knowing the true reason why it had to be done. It lets you remember the way you almost lost Neji from the Ten Tails’ attack during the war in his attempt to protect Naruto and Hinata.

And when Sasuke implanted Shisui’s eye to you, which he retrieved from Danzo before he annihilated him, the Sharingan lets you relive all his memories and experiences, and it paints you a picture of how unfair the world actually is, even more so to an Uchiha like you.

The unfair reality is further proven by an unexpected knock on your door a couple of weeks ago.

Hiashi. Hyuga Hiashi. The head of the Hyuga clan. Neji’s uncle.

He came to you with a deal, a proposition of sorts, but really it was just a threat in disguise as an offer.

“Leave Neji or else I’ll make sure he won’t be able to break free from his cage” is what he basically implied.

But to be precise, his words were, “The Hyuga clan is considering Neji to be the next heir, which would result in abolition of the main and branch family system altogether. Naturally, if he becomes the head of the clan, his curse seal will be removed, along with all the other branch family members’. However, there’s no telling if there’s going to be a change if he doesn’t get the position.

“You might have been keeping your relationship with him on the down-low, but the elders of the Hyuga clan know of it.

“To put it bluntly, we do not wish to be associated with the Uchiha in any way — so much that even disowning Neji has been put out there as an option, just in case — especially after what Sasuke pulled off after defeating the goddess.

“Moreover, if you were to bear a child together, there’s no telling what will happen to their kekkei genkai. It would be ideal to have him marry into the clan and follow tradition in order to preserve the Byakugan.

“I suppose you know where I’m going with this. It would be in his best interest if you call off whatever you have with him. Although this wouldn’t be a deal if there is nothing in it for you, right? Supposing Neji’s bright future is not enough for you, we are willing to arrange allowances of sorts.”

But before he could spout anything more, you cut him off by asking, “Does he know about this?”

“Not yet. But we’ll let him know soon enough.”

“Don’t. Keep it that way. I’ll handle this,” you told him, not caring if you didn’t sound respectful to a prominent figure such as himself. “I don’t need anything from your clan. All I want and need is for Neji to live a life that he deserves; a life that he was robbed off.”

Hiashi glared at you, offended by your words, but he didn't comment on it. Rather, he stared you down. His hardened expression morphing into suspicion the longer he looked at you; clearly he didn’t trust you. “How will you handle it?”

The only response he got from you is an intense stare with your Sharingan, and that alone was enough for him.

It’s frustrating to not have a choice, even when it comes to love, but in hindsight, you should’ve expected this. For all the troubles your ancestors caused in the past, it’s only natural for you to be this unfortunate.

Whatever blessing the Uchihas receive, it’s always paired with some type of misery. That’s just how it is, that’s how it would probably always be.

There’s no denying that in the end, it always, always hurts. But then again, you’re no stranger to pain and loss. And so is Neji. So surely, this would be for the best, at least that’s what you tell yourself over and over again in hopes that it will strengthen your resolve.

After all, Neji deserves a life where he doesn’t have to fear dying by the hands of the main branch family. He deserves a life where he can make choices of his own, without being tied down by his curse seal or his clan in general. And if leaving him means he’ll have all this and more, so be it.

As much as it is painful, it is hard, partly because of your waning resolve but especially because it’s Neji, who’s known for being an awfully perceptive shinobi. He’s almost never caught off guard, all the more when he’s with you, as he’s always keen on keeping you safe. Hence, you have to be meticulous and methodical.

The Sharingan’s ability to cast genjutsu is particularly harder to use against Hyugas due to their ability to see and sense the chakra concentrating by the eyes, enabling them to counter or avoid it entirely. Shisui’s Kotoamatsukami technique would’ve been quite useful, except you’re unable to use it yet because of the events prior to the war. Thus, you’ll have to rely on your own skills.

If timed right and casted properly, the genjutsu of the Sharingan has the ability to remove memories. To be precise, it can trick his mind into “forgetting” memories. But with years and years of memories between you and Neji, you know that you’ll have to cast it over and over again before everything will be completely wiped out.

You take advantage of the moments where Neji gives you affection, as you deem it the most subtle way to cast genjutsu on him without suspicion.

Although you have to admit, in the beginning you’ve been selfish, only removing memories of you and him that weren’t important — like the times he would accompany you in doing mundane tasks, or the times you both just lounge around after tiring missions. And because those are only minor memories, Neji is oblivious to the loss.

It gets exceptionally harder to cast the genjutsu once you’ve started erasing the major events in your relationship — the first date, the first kiss, the first time he held your hand, and the first time he introduced you as the love of his life. Until eventually, the affectionate acts dwindle down, and the only way you can use the Sharingan around him is when you ask him to train with you.

It’s only natural that the longer this goes on, the further you drift apart, and the more you lose him.

And it’s scary and painful because unlike Sasuke, Konoha has always been your home, but more specifically because of Neji. In fact, you can argue that Neji has always felt like home more than the village itself. You can walk the streets of Konoha but all it will ever scream is Neji’s name, and all it will ever show you is the memories you shared with him on every corner of the place.

The fact that you have to walk the streets without him is terrifying and foreign, and the only way you can avoid it altogether is by taking more and more missions, either the ones involving far away places or high rank missions that require every single bit of your concentration. Sometimes you even tag along to Sasuke’s expeditions to escape not only Neji’s overwhelming presence in the village, but also the thoughts of him.

It’s tiring and it’s heavy. But you’ve accepted the fact that you’re going to carry alone the memories for the two of you.

But this doesn’t go unnoticed by your friends, though they were quick to assume that things just didn’t work out between the two of you, and that you called your relationship off.

Ino is the first person to voice out her concern and her curiosity as she claimed it’s weird not seeing you hang out with Neji anymore.

“That’s just how it is, I suppose,” you shrug, trying to act nonchalant about everything despite the ache in your chest and the slight quiver of your voice.

She doesn’t comment further, thinking you probably didn’t want to talk about it.

But one day, when the whole clique — except for you and Sasuke — was hanging out, Ino can tell there was something wrong when Sakura asked if Neji remembered the time when you almost fell off a tree but he was there to catch you, and he furrowed his brows, saying he doesn’t recall that at all.

Break up or not, it’s highly unlikely for Neji to forget. Regardless of how minor something is, he always seems to remember them, especially when it involves you. And while he could’ve just been deflecting, there would’ve been no point in him denying that he remembers that occasion. Besides, Neji is blatantly honest, it’s one thing that you can count on when it comes to him, so really, how come he couldn’t remember that scenario at all?

This prompted Ino to observe Neji further out of concern and suspicion. She’d often find herself casually mentioning you and the feats you’ve both been through, but time and time again, Neji would tell her he has no recollection of those.

Ino wants to do something, anything really, just to clear her mind of suspicions, but she’s afraid she’s overstepping and interfering.

Neji takes notice of this. But even before that, he feels as though there’s something wrong, like something’s missing, but he doesn’t know what it is, and he doesn’t know what to do about it.

After all, genjutsu might’ve tricked his mind, but his heart is an entirely different case.

It comes as a surprise to Ino when Neji comes to visit her in Yamanaka’s flower shop, looking at your favorite flowers without a clue why.

With Ino being the only one who seems to be willing to talk about you with him, it’s her who he seeks out. That, and he thinks the Yamanaka’s mind jutsus could be of help.

Ino doesn’t hesitate to help after Neji asks for it. When she goes to explore Neji’s consciousness, the first thing that she senses is your chakra. The further she prods, the more she realizes that it’s you who have been tampering with his memories. Then she realizes that it’s genjutsu that you’ve used on him, and she quickly breaks him out of it.

You know instantly when the jutsu breaks, feeling as if there was a string that snapped, and it immediately renders you frozen.

Fear grips you as you think about how Neji would feel after his memories come back. Will he be able to tell it was you who did it? Will he be mad at you? Will you tell him the reason why you did it? Will he even listen?

But if he’d stop talking to you altogether… then that would still be a win, right? Because that’s what Hiashi wants, that’s what his clan wants. That’s the only condition for them to give back Neji’s freedom.

But is it worth it?

Is this what you want?

Is this what Neji would want?

You’d like to believe so. And that’s the last thought you have as the rogue shinobi you’re supposed to capture stabs a kunai deep into your gut.

Of all the times the genjutsu could have broken, it just had to be when you were facing a highly skilled ninja. It’s once again a reminder that life is unfair, but this time, it’s your choices that lead you to this.

Deja vu. That’s how you feel when you wake up after escaping death’s clutches once again.

You blink once, twice, and then you look around your surroundings. You’re back in Konoha’s hospital, but this time you don’t wake up to a sleeping Neji by your bed.

You’re alone, and you feel hollow.

But then the door to your room opens abruptly and you almost jump in surprise.

Your breath hitches as you find the familiar lavender eyes staring back at you.

He calls your name to you softly, as if in a trance, and you feel your heart stutter at how perfect your name sounds on his lips.

Before you know it, he’s by your side, gently holding your hands. With an untrained eye, it would seem that his face is void of any emotion, but from your years of experience with him, you can clearly point out the sadness in his eyes.

You break the silence by saying, “I’m sorry, Neji.”

“For what exactly?”

You look away in shame. “For trying to erase your memories of us.”

“Why’d you do it then?”

“Because…” you bite your lip. “That’s what’s best for you,” your voice cracks. “I’m not… We couldn’t— no — we shouldn’t be together.”

Neji gathers his thoughts, and it takes a couple of minutes before he speaks up. “The Sharingan may not be able to forget, but the Byakugan sees everything.”

And you understand what he’s trying to say: he can see through the lies you feed yourself.

Neji sighs, and it gets your attention. You peek at him, and only then have you noticed the bags under his eyes and the way his shoulders are slightly slumped.

He has always looked composed no matter the situation, but now he’s different.

“You used to tell me everything,” he says dejectedly.

The way he says it and the way he pleads with his eyes breaks something in you and you spill everything to him.

You’re crying and stuttering and you aren’t sure if you’re making sense. But Neji always, always understands you.

And by the end of your piece, you’re wrapped securely in his arms.

“You’re alright,” he comforts you. “We’re alright.”

“But Hiashi—”

“We’ll figure it out. We always do.”

here’s some really good ideas sent on anon for part 3!

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honestlyfrance · 3 years ago

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SAMBUCKY BOOKMARKS

it’s fic yeah friday over at @fuckyeahsambucky so i wanna do a lil something something for the fandom :) check out my #fic rec tag for more!

enjoy the more than 50 fics listed here :) be careful of the tags!

I Am Trying to Break Your Heart by Lunar_Pull

Today is the day that Steve received an invitation to the love of his life’s wedding.

Philopatry by Areiton

"I want to be safe," he says. "But I'm not." "Then why come here? Why put me at risk?" Something flickers in his eyes, little boy lost and utterly cold, and it makes Sam want to give the dude a hug and also pull his sidearm. "I have no reason to hurt you," Winter says. "I don't want to hurt you," Bucky adds, earnestly.

farmhouse by Tazmaster

"You know, I think I'd want a farmhouse."

"A what?" Sam turns to look at him, slightly annoyed. This was the first thing Bucky has said in the past hour and a half they've been cramped in this god forsaken car. He had a knack for impulsively voicing his dumb thoughts at the worst times, but whenever you wanted to know what was actually going on in that head of his, he'd never say.

They were staking out the front gate of a large mansion, very much not a farmhouse. It was mind numbingly boring, being stuck in a beetle with absolutely nothing else to do than stare at the gaudy gates of some rich asshole.

"A farmhouse," Bucky repeats nonchalantly, "If we ever get out of this business, or you know, live long enough to retire maybe--- I want a farmhouse. With a lot of animals."

---

Bucky keeps talking about a farmhouse and it drives Sam crazy, that is until he finally asks why.

Employee Discount by bopeep for queenmab_scherzo

Sam Wilson doesn't love working in a store that makes him wear vanity-sized polos and breathe in clouds of men's cologne like the worst kind of GQ aromatherapy, but the view from his cash register across the mall to the Hot Topic and the sullen Dark Prince of Wallet Chains he loves to hate may just beat the minimum wage blues.

In warm water, swimming down by targaryen_melodrama

“Why are you hiding?”��Tired.”Bucky raises an eyebrow. “So you decided to swim.”“So I decided to be alone.”Bucky’s quiet for a moment. “I can go, if you want.”It’s the last thing Sam wants.

I figured out what the slashes mean by Teaismycoffee

Sam, Steve and Bucky are all living together in a safe house. Bucky and Sam discover fan fiction written about them. Steve doesn't approve. Sam and Bucky are really into secretly reading fan fiction together, or maybe it isn't the fan fiction part they are really into.

Chicken Soup for the Soul by bioloyg

“S’not my bed time,” Sam says as he buries his face in Bucky’s upper arm. Bucky laughs. “Tough. You’re sick.” Sam lets out a loan groan and says, “But my bed is cold. I was so warm, why’d you move me?” “Because your neck would’ve hated you if I didn’t.” He tries not to be so amused by how fussy Sam is when he’s both sick and half-asleep. It’s cute. ~ A fic wherein Bucky takes care of a sick Sam.

two nights in L.A. by CapnWinghead

Bucky kindly volunteered Sam to be a groomsman for Scott’s upcoming wedding. Of course, that meant Sam and Bucky had to go to the bachelor party.

at the end of the war (what's mine is yours) by notcaycepollard

They don't talk about it: that's how it works.

I'd Like That by honestlydarkprincess

Sam has been up for over 24 hours and has been dreaming about his Coffee Caramel Fudge non-dairy ice cream since about the 18-hour mark. When he gets to the store, there's only one carton of it left and, unfortunately for the guy innocently holding said carton, Sam's not leaving without it.

Or, the one where Sam is sleep deprived, yells at a cute guy, and gets both ice cream and a phone number out of it.

Ready, Set, Date! by bioloyg

Bucky wants to sleep, Natasha wants to find him a date for Steve's wedding (so he'll leave her alone), and Sam is the best thing about this whole speed dating disaster. But, Sam's not in the speed date rotations - he's at a different table weathering through dates just like Bucky is. ~ "Three dates in, Bucky decides he has made one of the worst decisions in all of his life by coming here. His first date had been an attractive enough man by the name of Greg. He introduces himself as “The Big G,” to which Sam laughs at in the middle of introducing himself to his own date. Greg likes to talk about cars a lot, which is fine. Bucky also likes cars. The only problem is that Greg’s love for cars borders on… erotic."

We'll rise up free and easy by Sarsaparilla, woofgender

Steve and Natasha are away on a mission when Sam receives intel about the Winter Soldier’s location. When he follows the lead, Sam finds something unexpected—but despite his initial impression, it’s certainly not all bad. (Post-CATWS, not AOU- or CACW-compliant.)

__________ "'Jesus Christ,' Sam said, 'Are you planning on fighting an entire army?'

Barnes looked up from examining the sights of a sniper rifle. '...no,' he said, a little guiltily, and adjusted one of the--five? Six? guns he’d already strapped to himself."

love is in the air (i smell coffee) by Flora_K, hermionesmydawg

Sam Wilson - graduate student, part-time barista, part-time salesman, and full-time father - doesn't have time to sleep, much less date. At least, that's what he tells himself.

Up at Night by bioloyg for lunaaltare

With Halloween nearing, Sam is feeling more in the mood for a scary movie than usual. He'd never watch one on his own though, so he invites his roommate to pick one out and join in on movie night. or Prompt fill for Samtember ~ "It’s quiet for a while after that. Like always, the two of them start on opposite sides of the queen sized bed with at least a foot of space between them. And, like always, they drift closer to one another as time passes, though whether it’s habitual or instinctual Sam would never dare delve into."

flowers in darkness, the moon above the sea by 27dis

Sam enjoyed his job, really.

But, not when a certain person came in.

A quick detour and a sudden arrival by iwillnotbecaged for heuradys

He found Wilson shivering in the snow, left for dead. Sloppy.

You couldn’t trust the elements to do your job for you. They were rarely so obliging.

A mission gone awry, unexpected help, and close quarters makes for an interesting couple of days.

Don't lock the door on me by TuskFM

Sam’s desperately trying to sleep when he gets a visit from the Winter Soldier at three a.m., bleeding and asking for help. Sam’s not the kind of guy who let someone bleed out on his front door, even if the said someone threw him off an helicarrier and stole his wheel.

and i run, further than before by hermionesmydawg

"What do they call you?" Bucky carefully pulls out an equal amount of caramel and cheese kernels of popcorn and pops them into his mouth. "Birdman?"

"No."

"Captain Canary?"

"Hell no."

"The Winged Avenger?"

"Falcon, dammit, and I am not an Avenger," Sam snaps, and now he's kinda pissed because yes, it's a bird name. He didn't sign up for this kind of ridicule from an amnesiac assassin.

***

Basically, the 5 times Sam actually found Bucky and the 1 time he tried to hide from him. Don't tell Steve.

Exquisite Flavor by enchantedlightningwrites for honestlyfrance

W&M's Grand Corner's growing to be one of the popular restaurants in New York, where Sam Wilson works as a chef for his sister. A wedding's in a few weeks and he has no idea on what to do about it. Notorious for his picky taste and blunt reviews, Bucky 'Winter Wolf' Barnes pays a visit. Little did he know, food could really win one's heart and lands on his stomach.

He's a Beta, You Hear That? by 27dis

Reasons why Sam didn’t realize Bucky was courting him this entire time: 1. He is a beta 2. He is oblivious 3. He thought Bucky is way out of his league 4. He is a beta for fuck’s sake

See? It’s hardly his fault for not noticing it. Why was Bucky flirting with him anyw—

Oh. Oh.

Or; Bucky swore flirting with someone was never this hard before.

stay where we belong by glittercake

He doesn't know what the hell he's doing when he turns around and shouts, "Yo! You know what—" and Barnes turns on his heel in a flash, "It's getting late, man. Looks like rain."

Sam motions to the grey sky above, and Barnes follows his eyes beyond the hanging Willow branches. "Yeah? What are you saying?"

He's got that terribly smug look on his face, the one Sam can't stand but kind of misses when it's not irritating him. But mostly, he can't stand it, "Nothing! Forget about it!"

Arms Spread Out Wide, Turn Falling Into Flight by irisesandlilies

It was easy, nothing has ever been easy for Bucky. Except this, and that terrifies him.

Years in the making by glittercake

Bucky and Sam meet as two young soldiers, but the time is never quite right to make it anything more. Until it eventually is.

Sam refuses to let himself fall in love while he's deployed. Bucky pines endlessly for years about the prettiest bird he’s ever seen. Sam’s no better.

If At First You Don't Succeed by SonnyD

Bucky finally gains the courage to tell Sam about his feelings. He comes up with a list of methods to woo him that were bound to succeed. He didn't account for each and every one of them failing in unexpected ways. The five times that Bucky attempts to woo Sam and the one time that Sam returns the favour.

if i could take us back, if i could just do that... by safelikespringtime

Bucky laughed, cheeks flushing red, “I’m glad you didn't. Don't know what I’d do without my wingman.” Sam groaned, poking Bucky’s side, “That was awful.” Bucky laughed. “You couldn’t survive without me. We both know it.”

How right he was.

***

Sam dies. Bucky mourns.

Strawberries and Cigarettes always taste like you by winterscaptsam

There’s a sweet agonizing simplicity in leaving behind your safe haven, like the thrill of adrenaline, reaching the top of Everest, allowed to admire its beautiful icy view but with the everlasting fear of not making it back down. Maybe that's why it was a natural instinct for Bucky to reach out for the closest thing that felt like home, slowly then all at once falling for the sweet warmth of mahogany eyes, what soon became his safe haven.

Baked With Love by Siancore

Bucky Barnes’ family owns a bakery in a small town. High school has long been over, and Bucky is dying to move to the city to pursue a musical career with his band. And his future looks promising, if he can just persuade his father to let him leave his job behind at their struggling family bakery.

It is no secret that Bucky used to love baking with his father, but things change. He just can’t fathom wasting his life away watching rising dough and hot ovens. With his mind made up to leave, Bucky convinces his father to advertise for a replacement. While interviewing candidates to fill the position he has vacated, Bucky meets Sam Wilson: An easy-going guy who is as eager about baking as Bucky is about leaving. They bond over baking and become close. Love looks like it is ready to bloom between them if Bucky, in his haste to escape, does not ruin it.

Beneath this Crown by winterscaptsam

Sam traces his fingers from James’ hairline, down to his jaw, resting the pad of his thumb on James lips. He will let himself relish in this feeling. Not even the sculptors, painters or poets could carve their words and materials to accurately describe this.

“Do you think the history books will remember us?” Sam had once asked. And James’ words were made of the purest of golds, “my love, we will be legends for the children yet to come.”

Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes' love story, one a prince and the other a knight.

make my body come alive (i've got a right to hurt inside) by notcaycepollard

The body is weak. The body is hungry and soft and human. He looks at himself in the mirror, the bones of his shoulders, his cheeks hollowed out from hunger, and he thinks, gentle, you didn’t deserve this.

safe like spring time by quidhitch

“I already told you it looks good. What more is there?”

“I don’t know, man, you’re gonna live here. I just wish I knew a little bit more about how that’s sitting with you.”

Sam knows Bucky feels fine. What Sam’s probably actually after is how he feels about the fact neither of them have anywhere else to go, not with Natasha dead and Steve wrinkly. Therapists. Even the good ones, always so circular.

“I like the terrace,” Bucky offers, mostly to appease him.

Airy Laundry by AmarieMelody

Sam watches what happens when Bucky buys a clothesline.

lucky by CapnWinghead

In retrospect, it took Bucky an embarrassingly long time to realize that everyone and Scott's mom thought he and Sam were dating.

not an end, but (the start of all things) by notcaycepollard

They keep driving, for lack of anything better to do. A mission, Sam had said, and maybe that's true; maybe wherever they're headed is the way out, the way up.

So You Run On Gasoline by 343EnderSpark, ABitNotGoodieBag, OriginalCeenote

Bucky may have bitten off more than he could chew with this job, he thinks, as he ambles along the sidewalk to the cafe after leaving campus. He is running off the fumes of exhaustion and hasn’t had more than 3 hours of uninterrupted sleep in the past week. Between his students and his thesis, he knows that it’s foolish to try so hard to hang on to his barista gig, but DC isn’t a cheap place to live and Bucky can’t live with other people.

Bucky is just trying his best, despite being a human disaster.

we could jump the state lines (we only get the one life) by notcaycepollard

It starts in Paris.

“You can’t steal things just because you like them,” Sam tells Bucky, feeling innately that this is a losing battle, and Bucky cocks his head to the side, considers Sam very thoughtfully.

“Really,” he says. “I’m stealing you, aren’t I?”

we were a fire with no smoke by notcaycepollard

Sam can’t help but roll his eyes. Take the boys out of New York but they’re still Brooklyn Catholics, that’s clear enough. Bucky catches the gesture, smirks hard enough Sam can see his eye teeth. It should be dangerous but he’s beautiful, pale and charming and recklessly easy.

“You wanna come in?” Sam asks, ignoring the noise Steve makes, and Bucky’s smile gets wider.

“Yeah,” he says. Steps up close to Sam. “I do.”

Peace Begins with a Smile by Siancore

Bucky just likes the way Sam smiles.

They're Good Drones, Brent by chase_acow

When Redwing becomes infected with an alien A.I., Sam has to balance the needs of the team with his own curiosity about his new partner. Redwing isn’t the only one acting strange, he also needs to get to the bottom of Bucky’s weirdness. It takes a training exercise gone wrong that Redwing and Sam might not survive for their secrets to be exposed.

Wet Asphalt (This Is What Love Is) by ObviouslyOtter

Soft words in the dark tell us all we need to know about love. Better when they come from the person you need to hear it from most. It's crueler when you don't realize it till afterward.

Sam and Bucky go out shopping for candles.

i'm gone by bi_marvel

After infiltrating a Hydra base, Sam and Bucky are sent to a safe house, and there's only one bed. Oh, golly, I wonder what will happen!

Covert Coffee & Flirtation Special by glittercake

The reporter says "—for Captain America to—"

And Bucky rolls his eyes. "Oh, here we go."

Sam looks at him then tips his head sideways, got a weird grin on his face. "Not a fan?"

"Not that. Just… the guy seems too good to be true, right? Wings and a shield? Come on."

"Uh, is that why your eyes are like glued to the screen whenever he's on?" Kate says. "Is that why you call him Captain Tight Ass?"

"He's a goddamn show-off, and you know it. Tight ass or not."

Just then Sam snorts, real loud, grabs his coffee and suffers a horribly controlled laugh on his way out the door.

The Starting Line by birdlight

A Series

Lone and Level Sands by quantum_consciousness

The almost-smile disappears off Sam’s face and he takes a step deeper into the water, and he starts unbuttoning his shirt as he wades further. One look over his shoulder and he chucks the shirt to shore, and Sam dives into the water. The ache in Bucky’s chest deepens as Sam swims. He supposes, Sam has lost a lot more, he supposes, sometimes Sam feels as lonely as he used to.

in which love doesn’t ruin us by joesnick

“Idiot,” Bucky said, so natural and deliberate that she couldn’t hear well but it was there. Relief and happiness under a small light. “Don’t do that to me again.”

“Hey, I’m here,” Sam said, before getting closer and pressing his forehead against Bucky’s. “I’m here.” They ran out of words. They didn’t need them, not at that moment. Their steadying breaths and their tenderness, saved only for each other and fed by each other, was all they needed.

Ride of Shared Melodies by enchantedlightningwrites for honestlyfrance

Two strangers, Bucky Barnes and Sam Wilson meet in an unexpected encounter in the airplane. Over the course of the ride, they discover their mutual love for music and connect.

Let's Fly Away by Unclesteeb

"If I could fly, I could go anywhere. I could do anything.”

Sam’s mom gives his shoulder a gentle pat. “You can in your own way.”

“How?”

“Sammy, all you have to do to be as free as a bird is to just do the right thing.”

Sam furrows his brow. “What does that mean?”

“Well,” Sam's mom starts. “The right thing is doing nice things for people. It's treating everyone how you would want to be treated. It's going out of your way to help people and love them, even if they're not nice to you at first or at all. People deserve love, and I know you have plenty to give.” She leans down to give his cheek a kiss. “All you have to do to find your wings and fly free is to just do what you feel is right. You have a beautiful heart, Sam. I know you'll use it the right way. Then you'll fly.”

Been one of those days (can I lean on you?) by hazel_eyed_bi

Sam and Bucky wrap up an exhausting, weeks-long mission, only to go back to their mutual pining while forced to share a bed at a crappy motel. Also, Nat knows what's up.

Find your love and fight for it by winterscaptsam

Sam learns to love again, quiet and composed. Love letters stay in between walls and stolen kisses don’t leave his apartment. It's not that it's a secret, loving Bucky the way he does, lord knows he’d scream it from the rooftops, travel all the way to space to let any living life form know it as well. But that’s the problem, he just doesn’t know how and it aches him to his core to keep Bucky like a secret, like this love is something to be ashamed of.

Sam decides it's about time to come out.

Kings of Everything by glittercake

Twenty-five years after the events at a popular New York Bistro, Timothy DumDum Dugan tells the true story of infamous mobster Jimmy Buchanan and the man he gave it all up for.

arson we commit by winterscaptsam

Bucky seeks adventure, reaches out for an adrenaline rush whenever he can get it and he reckons this fellow will be the one to give it to him. All sweet smiled and dolled up figure showing off his attributes. Like he’s daring anyone to take the rush.

So, Bucky goes and gets what he wants.

“What’s your damage, doll?”

Bucky is the hitman and Sam is the target.

The Boys of Summer by Siancore for avintagekiss24

Sam Wilson returns home to the small town he grew up in to complete his med school residency. He hasn’t been back for an extended amount of time since he left for college. While he only consistently kept in touch with childhood friend, Steve Rogers, he was keen to see the people he had grown up with. With the exception of Bucky Barnes. They had a falling out the summer before Sam left for college. What happened between them? Can they move past it now that they’re adults?

Sam's Plan by OhHelloFandoms123

“I have a plan,” Sam said smugly, hands on his hips. “I have a three-step plan for you to marry me.” At first, he thought he was joking. Then, he saw Sam’s genuine smile.

Bucky groaned, “there is no way in HELL that I’m marrying YOU, Wilson.”

Wreck In the West by OhHelloFandoms123 for honestlyfrance

There’s just something about leaning on his chest as the sun goes down and the smell of tea whilst into the air feels so amazing. And he was a wreck because of it, it tore him apart and put himself back together because it was so blissful, he almost couldn’t breathe at first.

Gay cowboy proposal.

Belonging Season by OhHelloFandoms123

Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes have lived their most happy, married life for 70 years. Death won’t stop them today for living an eternity.

neverending; by glittercake

Sam passes away after a long and happy life with Bucky, but Bucky never ages and life keeps introducing him to Sam's reincarnates for the next 156 years.

Lighthouse by glittercake

This guy’s trouble. Bucky knows that in his bones. It’s not bad trouble, is the problem, it’s good. Sam is so goddamn inherently good and if Bucky even touches that with a ten foot pole—fuck if he even looks at it—it’ll turn to shit.

He can’t afford another move to yet another city because his colleagues started recognizing Brock’s fist prints on his face.

But Sam is a ridiculously bright glowing light, a beacon, and Bucky goes toward it like that idiotic moth to the flame.

masterlist | ko-fi | patreon

#onlysambucky #sambucky #fysbfriday #fysambuckyweek #winterfalcon #sam wilson #bucky barnes #france: fic rec #fic rec #sam x bucky #sam wilson x bucky barnes

164 notes · View notes

softinkshadows · 4 years ago

Text

Hot spring tales (Hisoka x female reader)

A Hisoka x female reader one-shot, with a sprinkle of Chrollo.

Situated in the HxH universe with canon timeline.

Disclaimer: nsfw, contains smut and explicit sex (but we know you're here for that)

Word count: 5000++ (wow did i just write 5000 words of smutty smut)

----

Pale, slender fingers tap against the phone screen. He finds the contact he is looking for and dials the number, raising the phone to his ear. Around him, dusk settles over the ragged terrain of the Gordeau desert. The wind gains in strength, almost pushing his combed black hair free. The phone rings for a few seconds before the person on the other end picks up.

“Did you figure it out already?”

“Probably,” he says, his grey eyes catching the last wisps of fading light to the west. “The nen exorcist may very well be on Greed Island, which is East of York New. It seems you will need to enter the game as well.”

“Shall I procure one of Battera’s? He did buy all of the ones auctioned this time round.”

“No, that risks complicating things. What we need is a game privately owned by someone who is easily contactable, allows us to stay untraceable, preferably one who we wouldn’t have to kill and is reasonable towards helping…” he trails off, realizing that there is indeed someone who matches the conditions, someone who he would very much like to avoid for the time being… The irony of fate, he thinks, grimacing in irritation.

“It seems we will need to pay a visit to her.”

“Her?”

“I will send the address over to you. It’ll take me at least a day to get there, so you should start moving first. It would be better if you were the one handling negotiations this time round. And avoid mentioning my name, or the troupe’s.”

“Oh?” the voice on the other end piques with curiosity.

“We have… history. I’ll trust that you can strike a deal by the time I’m there?”

“Of course. After all, the chance to fight you is on the line.” He can almost hear the other man smirking gleefully through the phone.

“It’ll be dangerous, so try your best to be good, or our deal is off. Consider this a warning, Hisoka.”

----

You find yourself back at your quarters after dinner, alone in the large dressing room. Looking in the mirror, you arrange your hair neatly around your bun, making sure to tidy it for the next wave of customers tonight.

The underground auction has recently ended, and more people are flocking to your establishment. Kurohasu Onsen (Black Lotus Onsen) is renowned as the gathering-place for anybody who is somebody: a bathhouse that functions as neutral ground for politicians, powerful members of the mafia and hunters who have ties to the underworld to carry out business negotiations. A safe haven for murderers and thieves. All are welcome, although at a hefty price. The exorbitant entry fee is itself a gatekeeper of accessibility, and many have brought treasures and precious artefacts in the hope of gaining your favour. As weapons are allowed for protection, fights inevitably break out, but rarely do they erupt into something serious. All staff at the onsen are strong nen-users who pay close watch to customer behaviour. They have nen-restrainers on hand to subdue feisty ability users, and if not, there’s you, whose mysterious yet formidable presence is enough to elicit compliance. It is not uncommon to see off customers with missing limbs and near-fatal injuries, a warning punishment for breaking the establishment’s regulations. Furthermore, it is the iron-clad rule that the onsen is the one place where truce is enforced, upheld, respected. And you, the infamous proprietor, the black lotus of Kurohasu Onsen, are not someone to be crossed. Your customers are well aware of this.

You get up, ready to leave, when you turn to look at the mirror again. Your black onyx hairpin fits in and across your bun, easily reachable within seconds. Your eyes travel down to look at the black shimmering contours of your silk robe with its ornate floral embroidery, opening at two slits that end above the knee, the garment tied fittingly at the waist with a scarlet obi sash. Presentable, you hum in approval, before walking out the door.

Your secretary Esa is already waiting. “Give me updates,” You demand.

She follows you briskly down the corridor as you make your rounds to greet notable clients. Esa does this every three hours, reciting the list of new guests checked in since the last report, the rooms they booked, the meetings they have arrived for, and the fees paid. You remember everything, noting the ones who offer presents not entirely up to standard, or troublesome ones with a sketchy behavioural record.

“A while ago, a Hisoka Morow checked into the deluxe room. 50,000 Jenny a night for 2 nights, with a possible extension.”

The name catches you slightly off guard. You have never met the man, but from your intel he’s one of the most sought-after fighters at Heaven’s Arena. And a dangerous murderer too. But as far as you know, the man works alone and doesn’t get involved with politics. Why would someone like him be here?

“He has a meeting?” you turn to Esa.

“If he had, he did not say. Most likely for leisure, though. The onsen is famous for its baths too,” replied your attendant matter-of-factly.

You pause for a while to think, before calling over a male security staff with a wave of a finger. “Keep tabs on Hisoka. Let me know if he’s up to anything.” The staff bows and immediately embarks on fulfilling your order. You return to your duties for now, but the seed of suspicion and uneasiness does not go away.

---

“Ahh… now this is not bad,” Hisoka smiles to himself as he climbs into the water. He rests his head against the smooth stone edge of the outdoor bath, watching the steam lift gently from the softly rippling surface. When Chrollo told him about this place, he expected it to be dim and grimy, trawling with underworld scum. Instead, what greeted him was the pure luxury of mineral-rich baths, large clean rooms and 1000 thread-count sheets. He could get used to this. Not to mention…

His eyes wander over the bath, taking stock of the situation. Being quite late at night, most guests have retired to respective meeting rooms for drinks and negotiations, with only a smattering of visitors, mostly individuals or pairs, left lounging in the outdoor section. The only other people are the ever-present security staff, including one particularly persistent male staff standing at the private viewing balcony above. At least the nen users here are stronger than usual. A slight tremor of pleasure runs through his body, and he runs his fingers through his wet hair to shake the feeling before it builds into bloodlust. It’s been a while since he killed. He is still riled up from two days ago, thanks to the blond runt. And Chrollo, that damn bastard.

He observes the nen-users with half-closed eyes. 75… 80… 85… He evaluates. Not too shabby. Then he senses it. 97!! He feels the sudden presence, an impeccable zetsu with a tinge of icy smoothness and fiery calm toiling beneath its surface. It is enough for him to widen his eyes and sit up straight, a hot tingling sensation travelling down his spine, pleasure surging into his body for a split second, almost goading him into a fight right there and then. Well, what do we have here? He looks to the source of this pressure, golden eyes flashing and meeting yours, as you look down at him from the balcony above.

One look and you know he clearly lives up to his reputation. He is suppressing his power by default, but his presence leaves a slight prickling static in the air which only stronger nen users can detect. He also seems to have noticed you, judging by the slight shift his posture, the electrifying gaze beneath his damp red hair and the sudden tension in the air with his nen flaring, almost breaking its zetsu. Despite the distance, both of you lock eyes for a moment, each one feeling out the other, gauging abilities, locating motives. What the hell is his aim? You face the sheer intensity of his gaze with your own cold, calculating glare, both of you guarding your intentions yet attempting to penetrate through the other’s guise, staring each other down as if in a challenge. No one relents. But you can’t help but feel a rising irritation, that the man sitting naked in the outdoor bath three floors beneath you is getting under your skin, and a distracting kind of warmth creeps in... You look away. You nod to the staff to continue strict monitoring and return to your room.

Hisoka watches you leave, and instinctively his fingers run through his hair again, this time harder than the last. Oh, Chrollo… Don’t tell me that’s her? A smile tugs at the corner of his lips. Oh, you were right. This is going to be dangerous.

---

You don’t hear any more concerning updates on Hisoka until later the next day. Besides using the baths for extended periods of time, and mild complaints from other guests of his lengthy and uncomfortable stares, he hasn’t caused any trouble. He hasn’t physically contacted anyone either.

“Come again?” you stop abruptly, mid-way through scanning the paper records of this month’s taxes and bills, glancing up at your secretary.

Esa clears her throat and speaks again. “Madam, Hisoka Morow has requested for a meeting with you today.”

Hmph. You scoff a little, your eyes narrowing to ponder the next course of action. You had expected something like this. There is no way someone like him would travel all the way here just to use the baths, let alone without engaging anyone. If his aim is to negotiate matters with you, it must be something quite serious, given that neither of you have gone out of your way to meet with each other previously.

“Shall I cancel?” Esa asks, ready to deliver the order and reject the fool that had the nerve to request a meeting with you on such short notice.

“No. Make it tonight at eleven, after I complete my usual rounds.”

“Understood.”

---

It is night, and the onsen quietens for the day. Only the soft rushes of spring water from the outdoor baths and the muffled sounds of late-night negotiations drift by. You find yourself finally seated across from him in one of your private meeting rooms, both of you silent but never once taking your eyes off each other, quietly assessing one another.

Now up close and clothed in a blue yukata, accentuating the red hair that falls close to his shoulders, you can’t help but find him just a little more attractive than you imagined. His golden eyes are calm, steady, even confident, a rarity for anyone for finds them in a room alone with you. Most people would have bowed their head in submission long ago. You keep your own icy composure. But the force of his nen suppressed under zetsu, his incredibly toned body beneath his yukata and that arrogant way he looks at you make your body feel warmer than usual.

When he sees you for the first time that night, seated on the far end of the room, he feels it again. That powerful presence that keeps goading him, that sends electrifying jolts through his body. You’re seated comfortably on the floor, almost reclining, yet the hard, murderous edge of your gaze shows you are constantly on guard. Simply exquisite. He almost licks his lips but controls himself. A fine opponent… to kill? No, no, much too soon… that would be a waste. Chrollo comes first.

The meeting hall is much too large for two people, spanning over 24 tatami in size. On both sides, paper screen doors open out into an elegant view of the autumn trees in the estate, shedding its red delicately in the wind. A long, low black lacquer table in the center of the room separates you and him, each of you seated on either end. Silence continues to hang in the air. A staff gracefully pours a luxurious blend of sencha into the cups, before she places the tea pot and tray on the floor, bows, and takes her leave quickly. You notice Esa hovering by the doorway to the room.

“Esa, you may go.”

“But Madam-” your secretary protests but stops as you give her a glare. She of all people would understand you’re probably the last person in the establishment who needs any form of protection. As her footsteps recede down the hallway outside, you turn back to the man in front of you.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of meeting you today?”

“It has come to my knowledge,” Hisoka finally speaks, and the slow, sly curl of his tone lights another fire in you, “that you are in possession of one of the most sought-after items in the world of late. I have a pressing need for it and would like to negotiate a deal.”

“I’m a collector of the rarest treasures, so you’re going to have to be more specific,” you scoff, taking a sip of your tea.

“I’m talking about a certain game.”

“Ah, Greed Island,” you retort indifferently, although inwardly puzzled. Why would he go to such lengths just for a game? Didn’t seem like the type. “What makes you think I’ll agree to your request? What is in it for me?”

Hisoka pauses, contemplating something before pushing onwards with a slight smirk. “I’m not sure if you know of a certain man by the name of�� Chrollo Lucilfer?”

He waits for the intended effect and sure enough, you react. Immediately, at the mention of the name you’re hit with an unpleasant sensation that makes you grit your teeth, and your eyes blaze with a hint of fury. Without realizing, a cracking sound fills the room as the cast iron tea pot on the floor dents with the force of your nen.

Hisoka looks at the pot quietly before he smiles, lifting the tea cup to his lips, his eyes only growing darker as he trains his gaze on you. Interesting. “May I know, if it’s not too much to ask, the reason for your disdain of the man?”

“I’ve known him for a long time. He tried to kill me twice, once on purpose and the second time by accident. Clearly, he did not succeed,” you say, finishing your tea.

Beautifully exquisite. Another thrill runs through his spine, almost making him tremble with excitement. Perhaps it would be safe to suggest…

“I’m looking for Chrollo. He’s been running from me for a while now, and last I heard he has been spotted hiding out in the game. I would very much like to settle our score soon. Of course, perhaps to your advantage I fully intend on killing him, with pleasure,” Hisoka continues, waving his hand in the air with dismissive complacency.

“If only it were so simple,” you retort, knowing the full potential of Chrollo’s abilities. “And how can I take you for your word?”

“You can’t.”

You look up in mild distaste at Hisoka. What a bastard. You could slit his throat right now, with that cocky expression of his. And yet, your body feels a little hot when he’s looking at you, his gaze ruthlessly penetrating and his nen just on the edge of flaring.

“Name your offer, Hisoka.” You say his name for the first time, aware of how his gaze hardens when you do so, and your body burns with a strange desire which you suppress under the guise of irritation.

“I’m not offering.”

“What?”

“Allow me to use the game, or I will go on to kill everyone in this establishment, including your precious secretary and all your guests. It’s been a while since I had fun and I won’t stop when I do.”

The audacity. You slam your cup on the table and glare at him, your nen bristling beneath the surface. It was a mistake to let him into the bathhouse. And the worst part is that he is right. He could take out everyone except you here with ease, and you’d lose your manpower, your reputation, your business. Everything you worked hard for since leaving meteor city years ago. Perhaps it’ll be wise to dispose of him right here, right now.

In a split second, you draw the long onyx pin from your hair, leaping across the length of the table with such grace and speed that the tea in Hisoka’s cup barely ripples, as you aim for this throat, slicing the air in front of you. He dodges at the last moment, his eyes wild with a feral look as you nick of a few strands of his hair and the sharp edge of your hairpin draws a faint red line along his throat. He grins. He’s clearly enjoying this. He moves to land a counter-attack but you jump away. You’ve put distance between the two of you again; you grip your hair pin, calm and poised for another strike, while he similarly crouches, one hand reaching to stroke the mark you made on his throat.

“Now you’re just getting me excited,” his voice drops to a low purr.

Here you are, seconds after nearly killing him, and you feel your body reacting to his voice and his unapologetic desire. You know you have the power to end him, yet a tingling sensation creeps over the lower half of your body. You can feel sweat starting to gather around your stomach, while another warm wetness pools further below, between your legs. It’s been so long since anyone made you feel this way. Not since… Your thoughts are interrupted as he appears behind you, aiming for your head.

“Pay attention, darling.”

There’s barely any sound in the meeting room as you and Hisoka continue to spar in near complete zetsu, restraining nen to avoid alerting the attention of other guests and the security staff. His eyes gleam more with your every strike, his moves maintain its strength but do not get more forceful, and neither do yours. You feel the exhilaration of the near-misses, of your bodies brushing against one another before pulling away, the light friction of fabric against fabric, as if locked in a graceful dance that neither of you want to end. Moonlight cascades through the open balcony, and there’s a glint in Hisoka’s eyes.

“Let’s stop pretending we’re serious about killing each other, shall we?” he quips with a smirk.

His words register, and you halt. You weren’t noticing it before, but he is right. You weren't trying. You falter for a moment too long. Then he rushes you, pinning your body down onto the floor with his own weight, brute force mixed with excitement to the point that his nails dig into the straw of the tatami below, ripping it slightly. He raises a hand, about to spill your blood, when your control slips. Before, your brief exchanges saw your body feeling hotter, winding tighter as it did more cautious. But now, with him pressing down onto you from above, not pulling away, gripping with a strength that few possess and with a wicked look in his eyes, you can’t keep it down anymore. You let out a throaty moan as his holds you hard, feeling your underwear getting more soaked with every passing second. His eyes widen in surprise, and he pauses. You and him remain quiet like this for a while, the wind from outside gently caressing both your bodies, teasing out an answer.

Then, as if on instinct, both your mouths crash together. Neither of you are ashamed at the pure lust that erupts between the two of you, bloodlust still not completely abating which spurs you and him on even more. His tongue slips into you mouth, determined on stealing your breath, your hand clasped around your hair pin still trapped within his, his ferocious strength barely just surpassing your own as you do not back down, struggling against the restraint. It is still a fight, after all. Yet his other free hand trails down your silk robe, slithering between the open slits to your thighs before raising one of your legs to wrap around his torso. You moan into his kiss and move against his clothed body, desperate for friction.

"Patience, my dear." He pauses, giving you a sadistic grin.

You’re not going to let him keep staying in control. In a surge of strength you topple and roll over him in a flash, slamming him to the floor and stabbing the pin right into the tatami next to his head, at which Hisoka lets out a loud groan. You press and rub yourself against him, leaving small bites along his neck, your hair starting to come loose and fall to the side of your face from the exertion. The warmth between your legs grows, and it’s not just you. Hisoka is only wearing underwear beneath the yukata, and you feel his erection, hot and hard beneath your rolling hips. You feel your own slick starting to run down your inner thigh, and you ache to be filled.

You pull away and gaze down at Hisoka, who’s just starting to get a little breathless with desire, his eyes clouded with lust. You pull the hairpin from the floor and aim it at his throat. You command, your voice cold and edged with arrogance.

“Stop wasting my time and just fuck me already.”

At this, Hisoka lets out a low growl, flipping you on your back, almost tearing the obi around your waist to shreds with his hands. His mouth latches onto your neck and you cry out, as his hands reach under your bra to free your breasts, rolling your nipples between his fingers, alternating between gentle strokes and forceful pinches. Your body shakes with pleasure and you grind against him, your hands fumbling to move his yukata out of the way. You cover your palm over his bulge, which is already straining hard against his underwear. He bites a little harder on your skin as you do, goading you on. You reach beneath the fabric, stroking his most sensitive spot, and you feel him shudder against you. Oh, to have such a powerful man like him at your mercy.

Before you have time to think, your pleasure increases ten-fold, white-hot and surging through your body as his fingers find their way to your slit, obscenely slick with your honey.

“Oh? This wet for me already?” he murmurs into your ear, sending shivers down your arms and making you moan.

He sits back a little, his piercing gaze boring into you as he lifts his fingers to his lips, licking it clean. “So sweet,” he whispers, his eyes never leaving you, almost taunting your state of helplessness before him, and you twitch with pleasure.

“Shut u-” you demand, stopping short with a intake of breath as his tongue circles your nipple and he thrusts two fingers into your aching slit, expertly thrusting, stroking, caressing, hitting all the right spots as you can’t help but moan and fist his soft, red locks. His thumb finds your bud and rubs, with increasing pressure, matching the circling motions of his tongue. Hisoka pulls away and looks down at you, panting and wriggling beneath his touch, your words incoherent but eyes still fierce with power and control, and he finds himself growing harder, unbearably hungry. You feel his desire through his nen, bristling with lust, fingers coaxing you to bliss and eyes ravishing you unabashedly for everything you are and you feel yourself pushed nearer to the edge.

“I’m close,” you gasp, and you see Hisoka smirk dangerously as he pulls his fingers out of you. The pleasure that builds now cuts short, tapering off.

“Kisama,” you mutter in annoyance as you ram his body against the side of the lacquer dining table, pushing him into an upright, sitting position. He chuckles at your urgency and vexation yet remains turned on as you clutch your hairpin over his throat as a warning. His golden eyes are glazed over and quivering, a sign he is properly riled up, his hair now a mess, and his breathing is slightly heavier than before. You pull his large erection free from his underwear.

“You bastard. I’m not going to give you any time.” You growl, and his eyes grow more piercing.

You lower your soaking, aching pussy onto him. The stretch makes both of you groan in unison, and you almost come immediately from his entrance. He is huge in both girth and length, and it takes a while before you’re accustomed to his size. It was so long since you had proper sex with anyone. After he is buried in you to the hilt, you pause, glaring at him with a look aggressive with lust and a need for control. He moans in pleasure and you feel his grip on you tighten considerably. Then you move, slowly first, then quickening your pace, rolling and rubbing against him so his cock enters you at the best angles. His hands reach up to grab your hips, steadying you while he snaps up into you, pounding with such speed it makes your mind go blank with pleasure.

“Ahh-h—h!” you moan, louder this time, shaking with the mounting pleasure as he enters you fast, viciously, more than you can keep up with. You get wetter with each of his thrusts, squelching and slapping sounds filling empty room as he pulls out and fills you completely again with each punishing stroke. You feel yourself nearing your climax, your body swaying and jiggling with the rhythm as your bounce on Hisoka's cock, pressing your fingers harder around his body.

He senses it too, and growls, refusing to take his eyes from yours. You feel his nails rake your hips, grabbing your ass, pain and pleasure intermingling as your near your end. Waves of white-hot pleasure wash over you as you moan into your orgasm, your eyes closed in bliss as you tremble violently, clenching tightly around Hisoka, muttering curses as you come completely undone.

Before you have time to come down from your high, Hisoka pulls out, his rock-hard cock dripping with your honey, before grabbing you and laying you down on the table, towering over you once more. Then he fully sheaths himself inside you in one go, making you cry out at the jolt of oversensitivity as he pushes towards his own end. Using the slick from your orgasm, he goes even faster now, relentless, his hands holding your legs wide apart so he can have unfettered access to you while he slams into you without restraint.

"You like this, don't you? You like being punished like this?" He purrs with forcefulness, a sign he is close, lustful gaze boring into yours while he pummels into you.

You can't help but shudder at his words, but you spit out through gritted teeth. "Don't get cocky. And don't you dare finish inside, or I'll kill you before you are even done."

His control snaps. You feel his cock twitch inside of you. Then he pulls out and comes, moaning with deep satisfaction in your ear, his warm load spilling onto your stomach. After he finishes, you both gaze as each other for a while, barely out of breath, sweat glistening against skin. Your clothes are both in a mess and disarray, his hands are still spreading you wide and bare torso pressed against you as you both bask in the afterglow, sharing a moment to take in the surreal pleasure of what was an extremely unplanned but steaming hot round of sex.

"So with this, do we have a deal?" He breaks the silence with a devious smile.

"I'm not that cheap if you think once is enough." You retort as you clean up, pulling your clothes back on. "At least three more times, with an additional fee of 300,000 Jenny."

"Aren't you a greedy one," Hisoka smirks, tying his yukata back in place. "Alright. It's a deal, not like I'm complaining. I might deliver more than you ask for." His golden eyes travel across your body once more before meeting yours, and you can still see a faint glimmer of lust, ready to be reignited.

"Enjoying yourself?" An icy voice comes from the darkened doorway.

You don't even need to look to know who it is, recognizing the voice immediately. Cold grey eyes gaze at you from a figure leaning against the entryway.

"Chrollo," you almost spit out.

"Ah," says Hisoka naturally, "you're finally here."

You turn to scowl at Hisoka, realizing his blatant lie from earlier. You wonder for a moment how Chrollo even got in to the onsen without your notice, given that him and the troupe remain high up on your guest blacklist. Then you sense his nen, or rather his lack of it, a blur void except for the vague tinge of someone else’s foreign nen around his chest. A contract, then. He's harmless now.

Chrollo steps into the room, dressed elegantly in a black yukata, his hair let down comfortably. "Seems like you taste in men hasn't changed. I took a gamble on that." His steely grey gaze, piercing, calculating and formidable in confidence, still make you tremble a little, despite knowing him for years.

You take a while to understand and chuckle, looking from Chrollo to Hisoka. "Seems like we both got played."

The latter narrows his eyes at Chrollo before running his hand through his hair, sighing. "Well, as expected of him. Again, not like I'm complaining."

"Hisoka, leave us for a moment," you order.

"As you wish." You feel him step out but loiter along the corridor, waiting to pick up on the following conversation. Now it's just you and Chrollo left in the room. He doesn't move closer to you.

"It's been long. Too... long." Chrollo speaks, his voice calm but you detect a tinge of nostalgia, affection, regret and caution all entangled in one.

You know what he means. You can even see it now, the times he drove you wild, nearly killing you with nen. You can see all the times his lips met yours, growing a steady fire with a kiss, his fingers grazing your skin and making you moan and whimper while you grasp his hair tight in your hands, your mind blanking and feeling the universe come apart and stitch right back together...

"You won't be able to handle me now, in your current state. I would break you. It wont be pleasurable for any of us," you reply coolly. You catch the sound of a stifled laugh from the hallway outside. "Once you get your nen back, I just might reconsider."

You stand up, letting your silk robes fall gracefully past your knees once more. You arrange your bun and slip the onyx pin back into your hair.

"You can use the game tomorrow. I'll have it prepared. Tonight, I'll be busy receiving my payment. In full." You pause a little next to him, giving him one last, long look, before walking out the room and towards your quarters, Hisoka trailing behind.

Alone, Chrollo's eyes are deep and unreadable. Unconsciously, his hands are balled into tight fists by his sides. Then he breathes deeply, chuckling to himself.

What a woman. "Hisoka, you'd better get the job done. Fast."

---

Notes: omg this took way longer than i expected to!!! I’m quite proud of this one ;) I got inspired by a mobage card of hisoka, chrollo and the phantom troupe at an onsen and decided to do this imagine piece! Hope you enjoyed my fellow hisoka simps, it was so fun to write ;)

#hisoka morow x reader #hisoka morow #chrollo lucilfer x reader #chrollo lucilfer #adultrio #adultrio x reader #hxh #hxh imagines #hunter x hunter #one shot

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baoshan-sanren · 4 years ago

Text

Chapter 19

of the wwx emperor au that still doesn’t have a damn title

XiChen not only readily accepts responsibility for WangJi’s meeting with the Emperor, but he has a list of reasons why he has done so, each one rooted in undeniable logic.

The Emperor seems to be fond of WangJi; in the view of the recent assassination attempt, this fondness could be beneficial. The Emperor has also revealed to WangJi (and by extension, to the Lan Sect), his competition plans, which implies a certain amount of trust. (Competition plans, XiChen says firmly, although uncle will go on to grumble about immature antics all the way to the Jade Sword Palace courtyard).

In addition, the Emperor believes WangJi to be a worthy opponent, and is specifically interested in crossing swords with him, out of all the young masters who are competing. This is a compliment, and should be taken as such.

Also, the Emperor might have been sitting on their roof, which is not exactly dignified behavior, but the alternative would have been rudely invading their living space at an unseemly hour. Something Nie HuaiSang had readily done, but the Emperor did not seem willing to do. Which, at the very least, implies some consideration, if not outright respect.

XiChen reminds uncle that the Emperor had done a proper investigation when XiChen was unjustly accused.

He reminds uncle that the Emperor has posted guards outside their residence to protect them.

He reminds uncle that Jiang YanLi had insisted on escorting WangJi to the Jade Sword Palace, and had spoken up against her future father-in-law in Lan Sect’s defense.

He reminds uncle that the Emperor is sending assistance to Gusu, which they desperately need.

XiChen talks until uncle is tired of hearing it, and stops offering rebuttals.

WangJi has never been more convinced that his brother will make an exceptional Sect Leader. He is also very much relieved to have that particular discussion concluded, or at the very least, shelved for later, by the time they arrive at the Jade Sword Palace.

Despite dozens of awnings set up all around the main platform, each one occupied by a clan or a sect, the courtyard somehow seems larger, the iron shields and dragon statues more intimidating. The Lan Sect’s designated place is so far from the platform that they are unlikely to see much of the actual competition. Still, their small, south-west corner is peaceful, attracting no attention.

WangJi cannot see the groups of disciples arriving from the West and East courtyards, and has no way of knowing if Wei WuXian is among them. But he hears the roar of approval coming from the Nie Sect, and has to assume that the majority of the top five winners must be wearing the Nie Sect uniforms.

The Emperor’s seat has been built at the top of the staircase leading to the Jade Sword Palace. Its canopy is made of layers upon layers of blue silk, hiding the person within. Once in a while, a vague shape can be seen. Twice, a pale hand extends through the folds of silk in order to issue some instructions. A row of Emperor’s personal guard is lined up behind the seat, and one level down, the High Councilor shares a table with his wife and daughter.

WangJi wonders if Jiang WanYin is competing as well. For the first time, he feels slightly disappointed that the Lan Sect is situated in such an inconvenient place. The Jiang Sect has a unique sword technique, one that WangJi would very much like to see.

There is another hour, at least, before the competition is to begin. In the meantime, tea and snacks are served. The Sect Leaders use that time to wander around, gossiping with their friends, and smiling with fake politeness at their enemies. The Lan Sect is a subject of many false smiles, but neither XiChen nor WangJi are bothered by it. Uncle just seems relieved that no one has had their tea poisoned this time around.

They do not expect to be approached by anyone, but when Nie MingJue does just that, WangJi is not surprised. He does not think that a single day has passed since they arrived, where Nie MingJue has not sought out his brother, or made it a point to speak to him. Although uncle has yet to address this, WangJi thinks it must be obvious to him as well.

Cornering the man and demanding to know his intentions is something that WangJi is actively trying not to do every moment of every day; XiChen would not thank him for interfering, and a wrong answer from Nie MingJue would probably end with an actual murder.

The Nie Sect Leader bows, and addresses uncle, “Sect Leader, the Emperor is concerned that your location will prevent the Second Young Master from properly observing his opponents. He asks that the Lan Sect suffer a small inconvenience of moving to the Nie Sect table for the duration of the competition.”

WangJi is certain that the Emperor has made no such request. Wei WuXian should be somewhere among the other Nie Sect disciples, trying not to reveal his identity. The idea that this consideration comes from Nie HuaiSang sours his stomach, despite the fact that only moments ago, he had been wishing for a better view of the platform.

Uncle glances at XiChen, then at WangJi. He is wearing the long-suffering expression of a man who has lost control of the situation, and can find no way to gain it back. He cannot refuse a request from the Emperor, and he cannot find a fault with being seated at the Nie Sect table.

The Nie Sect is directly below the Jiang Sect in placement. The gesture is a blatant sign of favor. But more importantly, if there are to be any other underhanded attempts on WangJi’s life today, the Nie Sect table may be the safest place in the courtyard.

In a cool tone of voice, uncle asks Nie MingJue to relay their gratitude to the Emperor.

The space reserved for the Nie Sect is comically large compared to the number of people seated behind the long table. Nie MingJue introduces his sister, an uncle, and two of the Sect Elders. Even with the Lan Sect present, the table could easily hold another dozen people.

They have only just settled down, when Nie MingJue turns to XiChen, “Young Master Lan, if you are willing, I had hoped we may have our match before the competition officially begins.”

Although XiChen nods and immediately gets to his feet, WangJi can easily tell the state of his nerves from the way he clutches his sword.

The platform is large, set slightly above the courtyard cobblestones. Even half of a step past its edge is considered a forfeit.

WangJi’s own nerves are just as tightly strung as XiChen’s. Neither one of them had ever faced an opponent with a different sword technique than that of the Lan Sect. Uncle had always seemed pleased with their progress, but this is the first true test of their ability.

“There is no reason to worry, Second Young Master,” Lady Nie says, leaning closer so her words would not carry, “I believe A-Jue means to go easy on your brother.”

Lady Nie bears little resemblance to Nie MingJue, but a great deal of resemblance to Nie HuaiSang, despite being nearly twice the boy’s age. There is nothing about her manners that would cause WangJi to dislike her. And yet, that resemblance is difficult to ignore.

“I hope he does no such thing,” WangJi says, “unless his intention is to lose quickly.”

True to his words, the moment their bows are complete, XiChen moves like lightening.

In a single breath, he has forced Nie MingJue into an offensive. In three breaths, he has pushed the man to the very edge of the platform. He backs away then, allowing Nie MingJue some space to regain his composure, and to rethink his strategy.

XiChen may hold Nie MingJue in high esteem, but there is more at stake today than only XiChen’s reputation. No matter his feelings, WangJi knows that his brother will not lose by choice.

When they fly at each other again, blades clashing, it is clear that Nie MingJue has decided not to hold back. Still, WangJi can see from his technique that the Nie Sect values strength over agility. His brother is not weak by any means, but he cannot take many direct hits, and still keep his leverage. Instead, XiChen shifts fluidly, invading Nie MingJue’s space, allowing him no room to use the saber to his full advantage. In an actual fight, this is a dangerous method to employ; after all, the greatest benefit of the sword is its reach. WangJi and XiChen have been taught that this strategy is only to be used when they are certain that their opponent is physically stronger.

The blades scrape along each other more than once. Their robes are now a swirl of green and white, and it is difficult to tell where one ends and the other begins. XiChen is light on his feet, never pushing straight on, but always shifting just enough so MingJue must meet him with speed instead of force. Still, he is pushing, and gaining ground. He does not allow enough distance for the tip of his sword to be of any use; had they been using short blades, WangJi is convinced that MingJue would have already found one sticking out of his flesh. As it is, MingJue can do little else but use his saber as a shield. Each time he tries to step back to give himself room, XiChen steps in closer, the edge of his blade always a hairsbreadth away from MingJue’s ribs, his thigh, the unprotected flesh under his arm.

It is beautiful to watch, WangJi thinks. MingJue is taller and wider, the stiff shoulders of the Nie Sect robes only contributing to his towering presence. In contrast, XiChen had chosen the simplest set of white robes he possesses, mindful of the fact that they may be ruined by blood today. His brother is not small, and he is not short, but next to Nie MingJue, he looks to be both. And yet, he is clearly winning, moving with quickness and fury that MingJue cannot match.

WangJi knows XiChen cannot keep this up for long, and XiChen knows it as well. The moment he has managed to push MingJue close to the edge of the platform, he shifts the grip on his sword. ShuoYue swings in an arc, away from MingJue, the flat of the blade horizontal with XiChen’s arm. The move takes MingJue by surprise; WangJi hears uncle grunt in approval. The hilt of XiChen’s blade slams into MingJue’s unprotected side, throwing him off balance. Sliding deftly under the saber, XiChen delivers a quick kick to the back of MingJue’s knee, an elbow to his ribs, and a second thrust to his chin. The chin strike can easily shatter the jaw, but WangJi can tell that XiChen uses very little force, just enough to knock Nie MingJue down to the ground.

To WangJi’s surprise, Lady Nie is the first to stand up and cheer. The Jiang Sect follows her example, and once they do, most of the smaller sects join in as well. XiChen looks flushed and disheveled, but he is smiling brightly, tentatively offering his hand to help Nie MingJue back to his feet. Nie MingJue accepts, looking far too cheerful for someone who had lost a match, and got an elbow to his face in the process.

The joy on XiChen’s face is so genuine, so unrestrained, that WangJi’s chest tightens painfully in response. How often has he seen his brother look this happy? How many of these moments is XiChen likely to have in his lifetime?

The future leader of the Lan Sect winning against the General of the Emperor’s army will probably be talked about for years. And yet, WangJi does not think that this will stop the next innkeeper from spitting at XiChen’s feet.

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estoniacobaltpayne · 4 years ago

Text

Judgement Day

Chapter 1: Devising Deceit

Summary: Desperate, a force user bargains for her freedom; if she acquires the ‘asset’ deemed top priority, she would be free from the life that has enslaved her. Years of training has prepared her, but she’s stubborn and unlucky and more often than not she’s biting off more than she can chew. Maybe pulling the long con is the only path to freedom, but if it is, there’s a Mandalorian blocking it.

Warnings: language, implications of creepy old men

Pairing: Din Djarin X Reader

Prologue: Here!

Arvala-7 was hot. Despicably so. It was as if its creation was solely intended to irritate her on her quest. She would have thought she would have been more accustomed to the heat, but even the stuffy cargo holds on the dingy and dank ships she stowed away upon weren’t as unbearable as the waves of oppressing heat radiating from the red sand.

Hell, even Jakku hadn’t been this unbearably hot.

Luckily, Darth Ragna didn’t have long to linger in her suffering for too long. An isolated base appeared before her, and along with it brought the beginning of her journey towards freedom. Taking out the guards would be quick work, especially with her abilities. Really, what could they offer themselves for protection? Blasters? A canon at most? Surely, nothing to suppress her unnatural abilities. A forgotten base such as this one would in no way be equipped with such advanced, expensive, and rare technology.

And so she began her fight. The blasters were easy to manipulate into disintegration, and their users were easy enough to mindlessly toss aside without a single touch. The first canon was just the same. The second canon was a surprise, but took just as little effort. Then the crew of the base rolled out another 3 canons simultaneously. She was falling behind in her attacks. She now played the role of the defence, and damn, was their offence growing stronger? Or was the heat of the sun really that bad? How comical. The sun bringing down someone as powerful as her.

But it wasn’t the sun. It was the syringe sticking out of her arm. Did these unintelligent life forms really just... gain the upper hand? Did they really just have the audacity to shoot her with… what was it?

What was-

The last thing she saw was the same damned red sand kicked in her face by the boots of the soldiers running towards her. She couldn’t even feel it stinging her eyes, coating her skin, dirtying her hair. And after another moment in slow motion, she lost her ability to keep her eyes open.

The last thing she registered was the sharp voice that eternally plagued her head; “you should be better than this, pathetic child.”

And then, she was nothing.

——

Rumbling.

Outside.

Outside where?

Where is inside?

Darth Ragna pushed herself off the ground. She spit out some of the red sand that still lingered in her mouth. How long had she been out? Why couldn’t she feel the force? How did those buffoons even get the upper hand?

She lifted up her arms to shake some of pesky sand that was in her hair. It was impossibly tangled in every direction, and the sweat and sand coating her head was making the itching on her scalp nearly unbearable. But something was impeding her attempt to soother herself; handcuffs. A very familiar model of handcuffs.

“If you can’t control yourself, then I get to control you. Understand, girl?”

A tall man with skin as pale as his soul and a grip to match pulls along a young girl, not even old enough to have 2 digits in her age.

“Please! I can! I can be good! I promise! I-“

He turns around and cuts her off sharply, “no! This is the last time you disobey me! If you didn’t want the cuffs, you would have contemplated your actions before you enacted them! Pray I don’t devise a worse punishment!”

A pair of handcuffs encircled her wrists. They were a clean chrome colour, that, when paired with the glowing blue technology underneath their surface, suppressed every ounce of ability to connect with the force. She was alone now.

It was the same type of handcuffs that were forced upon Ragna now.

But now, they were such a small problem compared to the IG-11 droid imposing over her body that was limp on the floor. She backed herself up the wall, trying to put as much space between herself and the killer droid as possible. After all, her powers in the force were useless, thanks to the cuffs, and she was useless against the droid.

But its focus was not on her, anyways.

Its target was stubbornly aimed on the pram to her right. She couldn’t see into it, but she new from the intel she was given back home that, if it was the asset she was sent to acquire, it was a child. The droid had its blaster aimed into its center; but it dropped to the ground with a hole in its head as suddenly and as unceremoniously as it had been brought into this world. Its effortless destruction was brought upon it before it got the chance to terminate the child.

But whatever managed to take out an IG-11 droid so very easily was more concerning to Darth Ragna; and that’s when she noticed the Mandalorian.

The visor of his silver helmet was trained upon her. The chest plates the colour of the sand beneath his feet rose and fell in gentle breaths; too gentle considering the energy he must have exerted to take out the guards outside. Speaking of which: if he could take them out, why couldn’t she? If she couldn’t out-fight a few hired guns, how the hell was she supposed to take out this beast of a Mandalorian? Even if her abilities in the force had been unsuppressed?

She thought quickly; the only way to get out of this alive was to out-wit the Mandalorian. If she was able to successfully convince him that she was sent here to care for the asset, then she might be able to gain his trust. And once she did, she would, quite literally, stab him in the back, and take the asset as her own bounty. And so, in a rushed, nearly unbelievable string of jumbled words, she put on, truly, her best act. But her rushed stammering, she could tell, did little to sway the bounty hunter. After her speech, he simply stared at her, unmoving.

Finally, after Ragna began to think that he would just end her then and there, he let out a gruff, “how do you explain the cuffs, then?”

His voice was like nothing she had ever heard; rough, raw, authentic. It stunned her into silence. It wasn’t until he let out a tensed, “well?” that she responded.

“They didn’t believe me! Even after showing them that I, too, am a wielder of the force, they still locked me up here!”

The Mandalorian was really going against his better judgement when he helped her up off the floor. But for Ragna, things were starting to go her way. She just had to sell her feigned kindness and hope that he warmed up to her quickly.

“Thank you! You have no idea how refreshing it is to have someone sane at a time like this! Imagine if those gunman had just left me here. How rude! I can’t even think of it! Truly, you live up to the reputation of your people! Now, if you would oblige me once more and take off these cuffs?”

The Mandalorian was already halfway out the door with the child, when he bluntly replied, “no.”

Well, damn.

——

And damn once more. Ragna had really expected her situation to be much easier than it was turning out to be. A caravan of Jawas had raided the Mandalorian’s ship for parts (not that there was much worth scavenging, as she bluntly said to the ship��s owner). Her new travel companion enlisted the help of a former ally to try and remedy the situation. An Ugnaut named Kuill, who mentioned in passing his indentured servitude in the Empire. Ragna stiffened. Did he… did he know of her? If he did, he didn’t seem to let on, a relief to Ragna. If she were to be found out, she would be facing instant death via Mandalorian.

Honestly, it was the damned cuffs. This whole ordeal could have been over and done with had that stubborn Mandalorian just taken those handcuffs off her. But until he did, she could do nothing to help in any way. Not when the Mandalorian went to fight the mudhorn did he take them off, and not even when he was fixing his ship. She could have helped and this all would have gone much faster, and she was sure to make that fact known to the Mandalorian in a feeble attempt to win his faith, but he did nothing but ignore her.

More importantly, she couldn’t carry out her plan to kill the Mandalorian and take the child to the Imperials herself if she was still held hostage in the force suppressing cuffs. She attempted to reach out to him; to establish a faux acquaintanceship with him in order to sway him into trusting her, but as soon as she initiated a conversation, he took the child and hid himself away in the cockpit. He locked the doors and didn’t dare retreat for the majority of the ride to Nevarro, as she believed he mentioned they were going, which was her last chance to enact any semblance of her plan. But alas, he still did not remove the force suppressing cuffs, and she was still disabled to the force. The Mandalorian’s contact, however, proved to not be useless to her and her situation. He was one of the Imperial councilmen that approved her bargain; the child’s obtainment for her freedom. The amount of time the client spent talking to the bounty hunter was excruciating, however, as soon as he left, she made herself and her bargain loud and clear to the Imperial client.

“I bargained that should the child be brought into Imperial hands, that I would be freed.”

The Imperial was a plump man with a disapproving face. He was smart, and not one to easily let go of what he felt belonged in Imperial clutches.

“And yet, you were not the one to bring in the asset, so I do believe that your contract has been voided.”

Her jaw squared. She would be damned if some bounty hunter got in the way of her freedom.

“I helped him. I led him to it. There were too many guards. Neither could have taken them alone. My contract never said I couldn’t employ the assistance of another,” Ragna was seething. All she could do was plead. There was no way she would let go of her freedom now; not when she was so close, and she wasn’t below laying herself down at the feet of this asshat to obtain what she wanted.

“And yet, you’re sitting here in the force suppressing handcuffs I know your father so dearly loves to see you in.”

A shiver ran down Ragna’s spine. But she ignored the implications. She would weasel her way out of this.

“He wanted assurance that I wouldn’t kill him and take the reward for myself. After seeing the reward was beskar, I can’t blame him. Now, I believe my obligations are fulfilled. Please remove the cuffs.”

The Imperial client regarded her for a moment. Honestly, with how much Ragna made the Empire put up with - all her fits and acts of rebellion against her training - she’d have thought they’d be glad to be rid of her. A fact she made clear to him in his glaring silence.

After a moment he acquiesced, and ordered one of the troopers to remove them.

She was free.

——

And how beautiful freedom was.

For all of about an hour.

Ragna was enjoying some street food native to Nevarro when she heard a commotion on the next street over. She shouldn’t have investigated. Really, she should have stowed away on the nearest ship and bailed, but something pulled her towards the trouble.

And she really, should have known what was the source.

There he was, that damned Mandalorian (only now in a shiny new set of armour), carrying the child to his ship. He was conversing with someone, who, Ragna didn’t know, but before she could try and decipher their conversation, her comm beeped from her satchel.

“Come in! Ragna come in!”

She really, really, shouldn’t have answered the damned call.

“Ragna! The bounty hunter I was informed you worked with in obtaining the asset just made off with it! Tore threw nearly a half dozen troopers! Apprehend he and the child immediately!”

Rage coursed through her. She was no longer an Imperial toy!

“How dare you? My contract has been fulfilled! It is no concern of mine what happens in Imperial matters now!”

A dark cackle comes through the comm. The poor quality of the speaker mixed it with static to give it a truly horrifying and maniacal texture.

“I thought you wanted freedom in order to better carry out the will of the Empire? I see now that you have betrayed me and this entire organisation. Foolish girl. Apprehend the bounty hunter and bring us the asset, or there will be not a single crevice of this galaxy that you can hide from me.”

The comm went silent. Sigh. Should she disregard her commands and hide herself away, she would never truly be free. If she brought in the bounty hunter and child, she would never have to worry about hiding from her Imperial keepers ever again. Ragna regarded her options. She had no ship, so chasing the Mandalorian around the galaxy in an attempt to kill him was off the table. She still had her original plan though. And now, as other bounty hunters swarmed him from every angle, she had the perfect opportunity to help fight them off.

Hopefully, that would be enough for the Mandalorian to seal some trust in her.

#din djarin x reader #din djarin #the mandalorian #mandalorian fanfic #mando x reader #star wars #star wars fanfiction #fanfiction

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theaterism · 3 years ago

Text

Summary: In which a cut is bandaged, in which a chat is had, and in which a promise is made.

Word count: ~1670

Part: 2/2 (part one)

Seated beside the kitchen table, hands freshly washed, the boy pressed a clean cloth to the gash on his cheek. His shoes didn’t reach the floor. His legs swayed slightly beneath his chair. He’d stayed silent since they’d left the hall and the shattered jar behind. Unprompted, his father had reassured him the maids would tidy up the mess. He’d also reassured him his siblings would understand why he’d needed to abandon the game. (“Can’t win them all, can you?”)

The man hadn’t mentioned anything about the lost sound. He’d simply set the lid of the jar on the table.

Apprehension coiled in the boy’s chest. His gaze kept drifting to the lid. It had a label on it, but the letters swirled too much to decipher. His free hand tapped softly on his knee. There was a coin in his pocket, but fear kept him from fiddling with it — he imagined it slipping, clattering to the floor, the metallic sound snapping the patience the man had displayed, which had to be stretched thin if not feigned entirely.

The boy knew the value contained within those jars. He knew how much they meant to his father.

Nathaniel was rummaging through drawers. “Ah, here we are.” He returned with a small first-aid kit and sat in a chair pulled near the boy. Antiseptic first. It stung despite his gentleness in applying it. The boy clenched his hands into fists to keep from wincing, stared at the now blood-stained cloth on the table, and devoted his energy to keeping still. It was gentle, though. An unfamiliar show of compassion, but it felt genuine. Despite the circumstances, he found himself relaxing somewhat. It would be okay.

Nathaniel finished smoothing a bandage over the wound. He leaned back, as though studying his work, and nodded, satisfaction in his eyes. “There. Much better. Bit of a nasty one, so I imagine it’ll scar, but you’ll be alright.” He slid his chair back, putting some space between them. “Now, then.” He crossed his legs and nodded toward the lid on the table. “Read that label for me, will you? Shouldn’t be too tricky.”

The boy’s fragile courage wavered. Still, he grasped the lid and squinted at the writing. “It’s, um.” Relief washed over him when the letters aligned enough for him to recognize the words. “May Day.” And a year, which he worried he’d misread as soon as he said it, but his father’s smile reassured him otherwise.

“Right. Which means I caught that one.” His head tilted to one side. “Now, that jar wasn’t too valuable, so I’m not too upset. I would’ve been understandably more upset if you’d broken an older one. Like, say…” He hummed. “Ah, let’s see. Don’t suppose you remember the oldest sound I own, do you?”

“Countryside, early 1500s,” the boy replied dutifully, having memorized the answer.

“Right again. Your very, very, very great grandfather bottled that one, as you know. Truly irreplaceable. No recording devices back then.” A grin curved his lips. “Which means that sound is worth a fair bit. Passed down for generations. I know I keep jars like that locked safely away, but if you’d somehow still broken one of those, then… well, then you would’ve been in more trouble. Though I still rather liked that May Day one, honestly. Sentimental value, you know.”

Silver flashed between his hands — a coin, seemingly produced from thin air. The boy’s eyes widened. Amusement glimmered in Nathaniel’s gaze. He rolled the coin over his knuckles as he added, “I suppose you don’t remember the other one you broke.”

The boy’s breath faltered and his grip on the lid tightened. He shook his head.

A chuckle left Nathaniel. “I’d be impressed if you did. It happened when you were… ah, three? Perhaps four. I believe it was a broadcast about an old cricket game. Nothing too special, so no harm done. Simply young clumsiness.” The coin froze between his knuckles. His voice stayed smooth as silk. “Now, I understand young clumsiness, but you’ve outgrown that excuse. And yet, you’ve broken another. Which is…” He exhaled, shook his head. His words, though draped in thoughtfulness, had gained a subtle edge. “Rather disappointing, if I’m quite honest. Because it simply doesn’t make much sense, does it?”

The boy suddenly felt very small. The urge to disappear prickled across his skin. His eyes stung, and his gaze dropped to the lid still clasped in his hands. His voice came out soft. “I’m sorry.”

He heard Nathaniel draw in a long breath. When he spoke again, his tone had softened. “Look at me.”

The boy bit his lip to stop its trembling. He swallowed hard and forced himself to look up. His father’s grey-blue eyes had softened as well.

“It’s alright, really. I understand you didn’t mean to break it. You don’t need to explain, even. You’re a smart boy — you know how much they’re worth, you know I’d rather they stay intact.” He leaned forward, words sincere. “And you know how much I trust you.”

Silence stretched for a second before the boy realized his father expected a response. An inhale to steady himself further, and he nodded. “Yeah.”

“Right.” A faint smile returned to Nathaniel’s face. “So, show me I can continue trusting you. That’s all I ask. You can still loosen the lids to listen to them whenever you’d like, but you’ve got to be more careful, especially when running about the house. Can you promise me you’ll never break another?”

A nod.

“Aloud, perhaps?”

The boy took another breath and squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, steeling himself. He opened them and met Nathaniel’s gaze again. “I promise I won’t break another jar.” His words stayed even, and a spark of relief leapt in his chest. It grew stronger when he saw the pride on his father’s face.

“Marvelous,” said Nathaniel brightly. He leaned back in his chair. “There we are. That wasn’t too terrible, was it?” Any trace of sharpness in his voice had vanished. “Ah, but I suppose I’ve got to invent some consequences.” He hummed; the boy held his breath. Relief swept over him again as the man continued. “No dinner tonight sounds fair enough. But you can nick some dessert if you’re quick about it.” He flicked the coin toward his son — a familiar gesture, a sign of approval. The boy felt himself smile as he caught it. He slipped it into his pocket. It joined the other coin there with a satisfying click.

“Now, then.” With a breezy sigh, Nathaniel stood and brushed some unseen dust from his lap. His hand dipped into his jacket pocket and withdrew a small vial, slender and no taller than his son’s index finger, and a lid. A thread of blue twirled within the glass. Something sank in the boy’s stomach at the sight. His father spun the lid onto the vial — the color faded — and offered it to his son, who hesitated before taking it. “Have a listen,” Nathaniel urged gently.

When the boy loosened the lid — not fully, just a bit — the gossamer color flickered back into view. He tilted his head closer to hear the captured sound.

‘I promise I won’t break another jar.’

The words faded… then began to echo again. He tightened the lid before the sentence completed a second time (‘I promise I won’t break—’). The color vanished once more. A lump had formed in his throat. He swallowed it, kept his voice light and steady. “Why’d you catch that one?”

“Ah, it’s for me.” His father took the vial back and returned it to his pocket. His tone was warm with reassurance. “I know you won’t need it as a reminder, but I might. Your promise is valuable to me. I truly do appreciate it. And I can be quite forgetful at times, shockingly, so I’d like to make sure I remember it.”

The boy hummed in quiet understanding. A reasonable explanation, meaningful and smoothly delivered, but the tightness in his chest refused to fade entirely. His gaze stayed on the lid still resting on his lap, and his slim fingers traced over the label. Nathaniel’s footsteps moved past him. Then they stopped. “Oh, and James?” The boy twisted in his chair to see his father, who had paused in the kitchen doorway. Nathaniel tapped his own left cheek, tone light. “Might want to switch that bandage soon. It’s bleeding through a bit. I’d like to help more, but I really ought to get going. Business call and all.”

Business calls were a regular occurrence in the mansion. “I could find the gardener,” the boy suggested. “He’s helped, other times.”

“Brilliant idea. I’m certain he’s got a better grasp on bandages than I do.” A sly grin flickered across the man’s face, a knowing glint in his eye. “And tell me about your hide-and-seek sometime, will you? I imagine your vanishing’s rather useful.”

Despite everything, his son found himself mirroring his smile. “Yeah, ‘course. Um. When…?”

“Tonight!” his father declared, already striding out the door. His voice faded behind him. “In the parlor, before dinner. I’ll have another story for you as well.”

James waited until his father rounded a corner and vanished. Then he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. His fingers brushed the bandage. His cheek stung beneath it. It had been stinging for a while, he realized, the sensation pushed to the back of his mind. His attention had been fixed elsewhere. But everything had still turned out okay, really.

He opened his eyes, carefully set the lid on the table, and went to seek out the gardener.

#|☆| stories #(weeps softly this got so long and i’m sorry…)#(and i died writing it bc hhh nathaniel….)#(he’s awful and talks so much agsgd)#(but yeah fox?? worried abt saying the wrong thing??)#(partly bc his father could secretly bottle someone’s words?? more likely than u think)#(i hate!!)#(also more details on his magic!! and a name!!)#(i’m sorry if there are any typos i rlly did try to spot them all agsgd)#(and i omitted the year in that one part to avoid verse confusion aaa)#blood //#(ask to tag)

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rhetoricalrogue · 4 years ago

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31 Days of Wayhaven, Day 2

For the @31daysofwayhaven event

Prompt: Monster Words: 1,216 Characters: Winona Adams + Nicolo Morelli Summary: Winona had a bit of an accident regarding her supernatural powers, Nicky comes in to dispense big brother comfort.

“Rough day?” Nicky leaned against the doorframe of Winona’s room and looked inside. If he hadn’t been actively looking for her, he probably would have missed spotting her, seeing as she was tightly curled up in the corner of the room doing her best impression of a sad burrito in her comforter, her head barely visible and covered with the hood of a sweatshirt.

“I’m a monster,” she mumbled, curling tighter onto herself.

“Aw, piccolina, you’re no monster.” He went further into the room and after silently asking permission and gaining the tiniest nod of approval, slid down the wall near her, close enough to touch but far enough to give her space. “Talk to me, tell me what happened.”

He couldn’t see her arms, but the way she shifted told him that she was wrapping them around her knees. “It was an accident. I bumped into Agent Hayder and…”

“Ah.” There wasn’t a need for her to elaborate further, he understood what had happened, as it was something that had happened before in the past. As a succubus from the Echo World, Winona had extremely good control over her powers most of the time, with the exception of when she was startled.

Winona had not taken to acclimating to this world well at first, and even three years into her new life with the Agency, she was still easily startled and disliked when people unexpectedly got into her personal space. The only people who seemed to have zero effect on her were her three teammates, and Nicky didn’t treat that level of trust she had for them lightly. He knew that Penny and Cam felt the same way. Winona hadn’t truly disclosed her age to them, but even though she looked to be a woman in her mid- to late twenties, he had a feeling that she was the oldest person on their team, even surpassing his own chronological age.

Then again, being nearly four hundred years old wasn’t a huge feat when one was for all intents and purposes dead and seemingly immortal, despite his best efforts to change that status.

Winona sniffled and used the edge of the comforter to wipe at her eyes. Nicky translated her accidentally bumping into Agent Hayder and her present state to mean that Agent Hayder had bumped into her and unfortunately for him, got an unexpected and depending on how public an area they had been in at the time, potentially embarrassing sexual zing for the day. “Anything I can do to help?”

She stuck out her wrist where the dampener he had fashioned for her out of Agency-regulated power absorbers sat. They didn’t fully negate a supernatural’s powers down to zero, but they did a damn good job of muting them to an extent. After finding out about their existence, Winona had practically begged for one to carry on her person at all times and seeing that they were normally clunky and looked an awful lot like shackles, Nicky had taken it upon himself to tinker with the design so she had a fashionable looking bracelet instead. “Make it stronger, please.” Her lip trembled. “He yelled at me so much, even though I apologized.”

“We both know that it’s the strongest that I can make it.” He looked at her red-rimmed eyes and saw the healthy flush of pink cheeks. It was a change from the pale, drawn complexion he’d gotten used to seeing her have. “Before this, when was the last time you fed?”

She shrugged. “I don’t remember.”

That told him it had been far too long. “You know there are people here willing to meet your needs.” Unlike vampires who gained subsistence from blood, succubi regained energy through sexual means. The way Winona had explained it at one time, sexual tension in the air could be considered a small snack, while the act of actual intercourse was an entire meal or more.

Sex. Nicky sighed wistfully. Being dead had its advantages, but the profound lack of a heartbeat or working circulatory system meant that blood just did not flow to certain portions of his anatomy any longer. While he had limitations on what acts he could perform - and he had to hand it to the woman he had scorned who had put this curse on him - he’d had enough time to figure out workarounds. But that was neither here nor there. His priority was to comfort his distressed friend, not bemoan the lack of functional plumbing.

Winona curled further in on herself. “I know. I just...don’t like doing it here. I’ve never liked doing it here. It feels so clinical, so sterile, and you know the Agency doesn’t like it when we find ways to fend for ourselves out in the field.”

Slowly, he reached over and wrapped his arm around her shoulders, grateful that she leaned against him until the top of her head was securely settled against his chest. “I’m sorry he yelled at you, and I’m sorry he called you a monster. Both were undeserved.”

“But I am -”

He made a dismissive click of his tongue against the roof of his mouth and hugged her closer. “Please. If anyone here is a monster, it’s me. I’m a dead man existing well past his time who’ll never be able to lie down and actually rot in peace. If that’s not monstrous, I don’t know what is.”

“You’re not a monster, Nicky. You’re just a guy who got cursed by a witch he cheated on and then got killed all on the same day because he couldn’t keep it in his pants.”

He laughed, grateful that some bit of humor was back in her voice, even if he was the butt of the joke. “Well, if I’m not allowed to call myself a monster, then you aren’t allowed to call yourself one either. You can’t help the way you are, and I’ll not hear any argument from you.”

She was silent for a while. “Okay.” Winona curled closer to him. “Thanks, Nicky.”

“Always. Is there anything else I can do?” He was already planning on having some words with Agent Hayder, none of which were proper for polite company. The agent was a stick in the mud on a good day, so Nicky could only imagine how tightly the man had clutched his pearls in the aftermath of the incident.

He also made a note to inform Cam. Most likely, Agent Hayder had filed a formal complaint against Winona and there’d be a full accident report to fill out in triplicate. Hayder was an asshole of the bureaucratic variety.

Winona’s voice was muffled under all her covers. “Could you stay a while with me?”

He stretched out his legs and made himself comfortable, trying to snuggle as best he could, seeing as Winona currently resembled a pale mauve squishy marshmallow. “I think I can do that. Though next time,” Nicky made a great showing of how hard the floor was to sit on, even as he pressed a kiss to the top of her hoodie-covered hair. “Can you hide from the world in a more comfortable spot? My ass is going to fall asleep any minute here, fragolina.”

She let out the tiniest of laughs. “I’ll see what I can do.”

#31daysofwayhaven #unit charlie #winona adams #nicolo morelli #my writing

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psychopersonified · 5 years ago

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KIdnapped!Q - Part 2

Continued from Part 1 here.

---------

“The boyfriend don’t feed you??” she shakes her head and sends a glare at Bond’s direction indicating what she thinks about his efforts.

Q nearly spit takes his tea. He forces it down, choking in the process.

Bond clears his throat. “I think… you’ll find the boyfriend tries his best,” he grinds out, still looking straight ahead, his tone betraying more than a little indignation.

-----------

Notes: The event told roughly from Bond's POV especially the first half. Plus the aftermath. This is me trying to get into Bond's head. Also, let's all get on Bond's case shall we?

Towards the end, there is exposition of technical plot. I've tried to interject it with humour and also to use this opportunity for character development.

Some parts borrowed heavily from Spectre (movie) but does not take place in that universe.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

Level 5 Lobbby, SIS (MI6) HQ

Kneeling beside Q in the Level 5 lobby of MI6 HQ, Bond vacillates between being livid at himself and overwrought with worry for Q. The young man is crumpled unconscious on the marble floor. He had seen it coming. Q was already too pale in the car, lips almost colourless. He had to call Q’s name twice before he responded to exit the vehicle.

He should have dealt with it in the parking garage, instead of turning Q into a spectacle here in the lobby. He recognised the symptoms of hyperventilation when he saw it. Bond was hoping to get Q to medical before helping him recover.

He checks Q’s pulse, rapid but weak. He’s breath is still shallow. If medical doesn’t get there in the next minute, he’s going to pick Q up and carry him there. A crowd is forming around them. Level 5 lobby is the main exchange lobby inside HQ - where the ‘public’ meets the ‘secret’. The floors above level 5 house the Executive and Operational branches. Level 5 and below that are the public facing areas - accounts, administrative, HR, logistics, cafeteria, etc. To get to the upper levels, they have to change to the restricted lift banks further to the rear of the building.

And now, it’s right in the middle of the workday morning. Curious staff from both upstairs and downstairs are standing around staring. Bond wants badly to tell them to -piss off-, but it would just make rumours spread faster.

Dr. Chen arrives just then with two of her aides, a crash cart and a gurney. Together they put Q onto the gurney, checking his vitals on the way to Medical.

“BP 87/60. Pulse 110. Oxygen saturation 92%. Glucose levels 61mg/dL,“ One of the medical aides report.

“He’s borderline hypoxic and in hypoglycaemic shock. Prepare glucagon shot, and glucose IV drip.” Dr Chen orders as they fit Q with an oxygen mask.

Knowing Q, he likely hadn’t taken breakfast yet that morning either. He was still asleep when Bond left for HQ. Add that to the fact that Q barely had dinner the night before; appetite suppressed by the cold he was having - he was running very low on reserves.

—

The treatment room doors close in his face. One of the senior nurses had brandished a folded stethoscope in his face like a weapon and told him to stay. That was Maria, a straight talking matronly nurse of Pilipino descent, the only nurse in medical that isn’t afraid of his 00-status despite being nearly a foot shorter than him. So he’s now left pacing the corridor outside.

—

Earlier that day

When his phone buzzed that morning with a security alert ::Lobby Alert:: , 007 was in a meeting in the operations centre with M, Tanner and 004 running through plans for the next mission in Libya. A local warlord was buying guns presumably to fight ISIS insurgents but intel has it that he’s gone from fighting them to suppling them - profits were better.

007 had excused himself to a corner to check the app that would give him access to the security cameras in Q’s building. The sight of the three men at the door with the battering ram had him on his feet in an instant - heart in his throat. The distress signal came through seconds later.

He was out of the conference room door in seconds and into the main operations area where the wall of monitors stood. R was there and had apparently received the same alert - the warning flashing red and urgent across one of the monitors.

“007, Sir!” R called out to him from across the room, “Q’s distress signal was just activated.” R looked to Bond like he might have an explanation.

M and the others in the conference room had followed him out when they noticed him leave abruptly.

“I just received the same alert. Security cameras show three men attempting to gain access.” Bond held up his phone to indicate how he knew.

Panic flickered across R’s face for a moment; but her training kicked in and she started calling out orders to the minions around her, “Executive Protocol Q! Attempted forced entry at Quartermaster’s residence in progress. I want CCTV feeds around his residence. Get the police on the line, how fast can they get a patrol unit there-...”

What happened next was a flurry of activity. Bond’s only deference to protocol was to turn to M and nod his leave before sprinting out. Tanner caught up with him at the lifts, a tablet in hand. He swiped his Chief of Staff card and tapped a short code that would give him (or more accurately M) preferential lift access in emergencies.

“M says to take his car. R can patch through the feeds and update us on the way.” Bond would normally object to having someone tag along with him, but in this instance a government vehicle with its blues-and-twos flashing would get them through traffic quicker.

By the time they got to the parking garage, they were joined by another team of agents. Tanner had the keys to M’s Jaguar and took position as driver, he signalled to one of the other agents jump into the front passenger seat - leaving 007 to stew in the back. The remaining agents followed in a separate vehicle.

“Tanner... a little more speed would be appreciated.”

“007, why don’t you pay attention to the tablet and help R out?” Tanner suggested politely.

007 flung the door open before the car even made a full stop. He engaged the second assailant just as Q made it across the Jag’s bonnet to the other side. Bond would later dispute the police report that indicated excessive force was used to subdue the assailant. A broken nose, partially crushed windpipe and dislocated knee was hardly excessive in his line of work.

—---

Present

Dr Chen emerges from the treatment room 15 minutes later.

“He’s fine. He’s fine.” Chen holds up her hands to placate Bond before he can do his double-0 looming. “Oxygen levels are back to normal and blood glucose readings are back up. He just needs rest and some food in him.”

Q comes fully around in half an hour. The glucose and oxygen supplement doing wonders. He’s sitting up on the recovery bed having tea and biscuits that Bond managed to retrieve from Q’s stash in Q-Branch.

Mallory and Eve are present as well, intercepting Q before Bond has had a chance to see him privately. Pleasantries done, M leaves the room and gestures for 007 to follow him out, leaving Eve to continue her conversation with Q.

—

Outside Recovery Room A

“007, It’s been a trying day. How are you?” M opens.

Bond makes a non-committal sound, “Sir. I know you didn’t want to see me to discuss my mental health.”

M sighs. Why must everything be so difficult with this one.

“Fine. I want to discuss Q’s protection detail for the next few weeks until we get this threat sorted. You are off the Tripoli mission next week, 004 will be taking lead,” M offers.

Bond would normally protest, but this time he makes no move. Internally he is relieved. This saves him from having to come up with an excuse for why he won’t be going.

“We’re going to have to move Q to a secure location. MI5 has safe houses and resources we can tap into— “ Mallory sees the snarl forming on 007’s lips and quickly adds, ”—but I have a feeling you are going to want to have a say in it.”

Bond backs down and considers a moment. “I still have my place. The floorplan is easy to secure. A few upgrades and it should be adequate.”

“And the rest of the detail?”

“I’ll… need two more officers. Better yet, field agents in line for the 00-program. Consider this their asset protection training.”

M nods in approval. But something is left unsaid. M decides that it is time to get it out of the agent.

“How long has it been going on?” Bond knows M is not talking about the protection detail anymore.

“Just over a year.” He says matter of fact looking at a point past M’s shoulder. Bond isn’t volunteering more information than that. M doesn’t look surprised. If anything, he looks thoughtful.

Both men are clearly uncomfortable with the personal segue of the conversation. A pause and they both look away and clear their throats at the same time.

M ends the discussion on something they are more accustomed to, “Well, I trust you have this area under control. Tomorrow morning, we’ll reconvene to discuss any information R and Forensics can recover.”

Bond nods. “Very well, sir.” The fact the M hasn’t removed him from the case is consent enough.

——

Inside Recovery Room A

“How are you?” Eve rubs his blanket covered shin.

“Aside from it being one of the worst days of my life? Alright all things considered.“

Eve reaches over to give him a tight hug, more for her own sake than Q’s, “You had everyone so worried!… Thank goodness for the pen.”

“Yes well… Bond’s penchant for pilfering Q-branch equipment finally came in handy.”

Eve ruffles his hair and presses a kiss to his cheek, “You did really well today. I’m so proud of you.”

Q shrugs, what can he say? He doesn’t feel particularly proud. More numb if anything now that’s it’s over. Eve seems to sense this and goes for humour instead, ”Did Tanner tell you? He put 007 in the backseat of the Jag on the way to you.”

“I did wonder about that…” He could imagine Bond’s ire at having to relinquish control and wait patiently. Eve and Q share a conspiratorial smile.

“The rumour mill is spinning in overdrive; thought you might to know. It was quite the spectacle this morning in the lobby.”

Q pinches the bridge of his nose; mortified. “Not my finest moment I’ll admit. I’ve single handedly destroyed what little street cred Q-Branch had left.”

“Oh Q... that’s not what people are talking about—,” at his blank look, she unlocks the phone in her hand and pulls up the internal messaging app. She scrolls to a video and selects it before showing it to him.

It was of Q crumpled dramatically on his side just in front of the lift banks. 007 is crouched over him, one of his hands cradling Q’s head. Tanner is standing nearby, phone to his ear. The video captures 007’s other hand coming up to touch the pulse point at Q’s neck. A few moments later the agent looks up, taking in the crowd, his eyes a blazing blue, expression tinged with fear. Dr. Chen arrives soon after, cutting off the view from that angle.

Oh… OH…- In his mind, Q had expected the incident to be far more comical. A tech boffin kissing the floor from panic induced hypoxia has the potential to be the stuff of comic legend; if schadenfreude was your cup of tea. But the video was far from amusing. Poignant would be a more accurate description. Bond will be a handful to deal with later.

At the sobering thought, Q changes the subject, “Did I make the tele?”

Eve grins and nods,”All morning… breaking news and all. It’s being spun as a possible terror attack, as shots were fired and we need to maintain your cover. Mallory negotiated a quid pro quo with MI5. They are getting credit for the quick response in apprehending the suspects in exchange for publicly copping to counter-terrorism failure.”

“There were quite a lot of shots exchanged. Was anyone hurt?” Q recalled the street was rather busy.

“Aside from the assailants, none seriously. Some civilian injuries, but all stable.” That assuages his guilt somewhat.

“Has anyone been to the flat?”

“Forensics is taking a look now.”

“Derek, the officer in the lobby? Is he—“

“He’s just out of surgery. Critical but stable.” This is why Q loves Eve, she knows everything.

“Don’t suppose anyone knows what happened to the cats?” Q is a little sheepish to be asking about his pets when human lives were threatened this morning.

“The cats are fine. Emily from forensics found them huddled in the laundry room. She’ll bring them back here at the end of her shift,” Eve reassures him, “But at the moment, your lion is loose and prowling the halls.”

Ah right, “Eve… does everyone know?”

Eve smiles at him, “Q... everyone’s known for months. Including Mallory.”

Just then the door opens and Bond reenters. Eve takes her leave. She pats Bond on his bicep on the way out and he acknowledges with a nod. When she’s cleared the doorway, he closes the door and locks it behind her. Finally. Some privacy.

Bond is silent intent when he comes to sit on the recovery bed facing Q. He removes the mug of tea from Q’s hands and sets it safely aside - gently demanding.

He leans in to wrap his arms tightly around Q, crushing Q against his chest. He runs his calloused hands over Q’s back, neck and into his hair - then buries his nose in that unruly mop of hair, breathing in deeply. When he’s a little calmer, a little more composed - he relaxes his hold to nuzzle Q around the temple before going in for a kiss, hands still stroking the sides of Q’s face and neck.

Q’s glasses are askew from all the petting. “Alright… I’m alright…. ,“ He soothes the agent, and has to take hold of Bond’s hands to quiet him. He knows Bond in this unsettled mood - a predator caught off guard, challenged… insecure. Bond would very well take things too far to reassure himself if Q lets him. And this isn’t an appropriate time or place.

“Are you still going to Tripoli on Monday?” Q tries to distract the clingy agent.

“No. M stood me down… I’ve been reassigned as your PPO,” Bond rumbles softly into his hair.

“Aren’t you a little overqualified to play bodyguard?” Q needles him.

“Hmm… you deserve the best,” he mumbles into the corner of Q’s mouth.

Q snorts at the backhanded compliment Bond’s paid himself.

Bond whispers, “I’ve been told I’m rather good at what I do.”

Bravado. Let him have it- Q thinks, “You’re incorrigible.”

“And you’re precious,” Bond had not intended that to be out loud, and is a little embarrassed even before Q calls him out on it.

“Gah! You’re incredibly mushy today,” Q pushes him away lightly, mock cringing.

Bond leans back, but his hands have escaped and have wandered around Q’s waist, thumbs caressing the ticklish flesh, “Considering the events of today, I think I’m entitled.” Bond leans back in for a kiss.

Pillow talk. They’re engaging in pillow talk in the middle of the day in Medical. -Surreal- Q thinks.

The door handle rattles. Bond squeezes his eyes shut and exhales in exasperation -Seriously, can everyone just piss off!

Undeterred by the universal sign for a request to privacy, the person the other side raps on the door.

Bond goes to unlock it. Q picks up his tea to hide his mirth.

The door opens to reveal Nurse Maria sporting a -very- disapproving scowl. She’s back to check in on Q’s condition. She keeps her eyes on Bond as she enters, keeping him at bay with her stare alone. Bond moves away to a decent distance and stands at parade rest, eyes straight ahead; the very picture of obedience.

She turns to Q and fusses over his vitals and starts removing the IV drip.

“Rest. No more dangerous stunts. Eat more... Too skinny. Tsk!” she makes a sound of disapproval.

“The boyfriend don’t feed you??” she shakes her head and sends a glare at Bond’s direction indicating what she thinks about his efforts.

Q nearly spit takes his tea. He forces it down, choking in the process.

Bond clears his throat. “I think… you’ll find the boyfriend tries his best,” he grinds out, still looking straight ahead, his tone betraying more than a little indignation.

“Hmph…” Maria huffs unimpressed, as she fluffs Q’s pillow.

Mercilessly she adds, “Maybe the boyfriend is too busy. Always travelling. You should tell him to slow down. Spend more time at home.”

All this she directs at Q but there is no mistaking who the words are actually for.

“I’ll umm… I’ll make sure to let him know.” Q tries to defuse the situation. If it comes down to an actual contest of words between those two, Q’s not sure Bond would win.

——

Quartermaster’s Residence

Late that afternoon, once forensics is done collecting evidence, Bond is back home - well technically Q’s place. He speaks to Emily, Head Forensics Tech onsite for an update.

“Place is untouched, only damage appears to be the door. Nothing appears to be out of place, but you’d be able to tell better than us. It doesn’t look like the assailants bothered to search for anything. Which confirms the suspicion that they were not after anything, but Q himself.”She informs him - which to Bond is the worst case scenario. Q has something they want, and if the failed attempt today does not dissuade them, then they will try again.

“We’ll have some technicians back onsite to secure the door at least temporarily and do a more thorough sweep… Right then, cats are in their carriers in the laundry room. Do you still want us to take them to HQ?”

“No, that’s fine. I’ll take it from here. Thank you Emily.” Emily pats him on the shoulder much like Eve did before leaving.

Bond has two other agents with him:

Agent Monica Chalmers, former Squadron leader in the Royal Air Force, calm, tough as nails with surprisingly good hand to hand combat skills for a pilot.

Agent Peter Coyle former Major in the Royal Marines, good all rounder but with a dormant sense of rebelliousness that Bond see lying just beneath the highly disciplined exterior.

Both are experienced field agents and nine months into the Double-0 program and top of their batch. He’d consulted 009 earlier for his recommendation and Bond remembered them from the selection weekend ten months ago when he assisted 009 in the testing process.*

Bond gets them to help pack a few bags for Q as well as collect any projects and papers he was working on - directing them where things are and pointing out the items he wants packed.

When they’re done and about to leave, Bond emerges form the laundry room with his own bag and a cat carrier, “I hope the both of you like cats.”

Chalmers is quick to indicate affirmative. Coyle hesitates a split second too long; 007 smells blood and smiles sharkily. “Well you do now,” and promptly hands over the carrier case to him.

-—-

Notting Hill, Chelsea

Then they swing by MI6 to pick up Q before heading to Bond’s place in Chelsea.

They have a polite dinner, all four of them standing around the kitchen bar, because Bond’s bachelor pad lacks any real furniture. Bond refuses to be embarrassed. The place smells musty from disuse, and the overhead lighting is harsh and unflattering. It’s in a very nice part of town, but the place is frankly depressing. Q’s only been here a handful of times. Barely furnished and incomplete, it represents Bond’s past - he still comes by time to time especially after missions where he’s had to do some morally questionable things. He comes here to shed the proverbial filth so to speak; before returning to his present, his life with Q. Psychological compartmentalisation in physical form.

Q had let the cats out to explore. Jellicles the younger tuxedo cat is curious, zooming about the place and chattering to himself. Q thinks his boldness is due to the place not smelling entirely alien. Bond had to pull the cat off the hanging kitchen lights at one point.

But Spot (after Data’s cat) the older orange moggie is having none of it. The big former street cat is attempting to climb Q’s jeans, wanting to be held and cuddled. Q finally gives up and picks up the cat and hitches it to his side like child - the large moggie is as heavy as one too. With the cat mollified, Q can finish his dinner.

After dinner, Q transfers the cat to Bond’s arms before excusing himself to shower and get ready for the night. Bond is in his usual white shirt open at the collar, gun holster still around his shoulders. The orange cat fidgets in his arms, head-butting him under the jaw. Jellicles who was lounging on the kitchen bar now feels left out and is reared up on his hind legs, front paws on Bond’s other shoulder, meowing incessantly. “Yess, alright…,” he sets down his fork in mild annoyance to pet the cat along his long sinuous spine and get him to sit back down.

Agents Chalmers and Coyle exchange a look. Here is the idolised spy, the revered Double-0 agent, the man himself in his private setting and nothing lives up to expectation. The cognitive dissonance throws them.

Bond ever the observant one catches their open stares, understanding immediately. His voice is low, tired even, heavy with the the years of service and untold horrors he’d witnessed and done, “They lie in the brochures. I hope neither of you are doing it for the lifestyle.” And that concludes Bond’s pearl of wisdom for the day.

When they’re done clearing up, Bond gives them their instructions.

“Familiarise yourselves with the floorplan, entry and exits. Let me know what improvements we need and an escape plan for contingencies.”

“In the evenings when I’m around, you won’t need to stay. Check in with the police guards outside and have them keep watch of the building. But I won’t be here all the time. At some point I -will- leave to go after whoever is behind this.”

“The both you will need to take turns sleeping on the couch. Or make alternative arrangements for him if the threat becomes untenable. We’ll discuss more tomorrow.“

With that, they’re dismissed.

——

That night, when the lights are out, and they’re both scrubbed clean of the days’ stress - Bond crawls into bed behind Q. Q can sense it in the cautiousness and light tremors in Bond’s movements, like he’s trying to keep it together.

Once his guard drops, James is near inconsolable. Wrapped possessively around Q, hands everywhere, legs tangled - his face is buried in the back of Q’s neck. The man is silent, except for the harsh and erratic breathing - and not the good kind either. The back collar of Q’s pyjamas is wet with tears.

Q does his best to soothe, petting and rubbing the muscled arms wrapped around him. He brings the man’s hands up to his face and kisses the cuts and bruises on his knuckles. “James, I’m alright…. I’m right here…” he whispers over and over.

He doesn’t try to stop the emotional breakdown, better to let him have it. Q feels a little guilty, he’s feeling somewhat detached from the days’ traumatic events. Maybe it’s because he got to panic while it was happening and it is now out of his system. He’s cool and calm now while James suffers the emotional fallout.

Q recalls the video that Eve presented to him earlier in the afternoon. The camera capturing with stunning clarity the raw emotion behind the agent’s blue eyes. If the agent knew about the video, he’d make the person who took it will disappear. Which reminds Q to make a mental note to nuke the video from the messaging platform in the morning.

James is past the tears now and demanding more. The soothing caresses turning to something more serious, more consuming. Q is more than happy to give. They comfort each other until they’re both exhausted enough to fall asleep.

---------

Saturday 10:00

SIS (MI6) Ops Centre Level 9 - Operations Room C.

R is providing sitrep. Images flash across the wall of screens to the front of the room.

“…—The ambulance was stolen from the Forest Hill Station south of London. Three assailants. Two in custody--” Their mugshots appear on screen:

Assailant 1 sports a bandaid under his chin. “…— is under medical observation for possible head trauma from hitting the cobblestone street—…”

Assailant 2 is much worse off, broken nose, a large hematoma under the right eye, and ugly bruising across the throat. “…— is also under medical observation for a partially crushed windpipe and dislocated knee.”

“Hospital will not release them for questioning until Sunday or Monday at the latest. Human rights and all. Third assailant was cornered by our agents, but opened fire into the crowd. Luckily there were no serious injuries. Agents stood down to avoid risk to civilian population and the assailant escaped on a stolen motorcycle.”

“Facial recognition places them as local members of a south London crime syndicate. Armed robbery, money laundering and the likes - serious crimes but nothing on the scale that would suggest going after a head of department in SIS.”

“Hired muscle. Nothing more. So that if the attempt fails or they get caught, it can’t be traced to whoever ordered it,” M concludes.

“Yes, sir. But they would have to know where to drop the asset off if it were successful though.” Agent Chalmers chimes in.

“Note the unusual timing; in the middle of a workday morning meant that they had to know that Q would be home at the time. That he was relatively unguarded—“ that Bond wasn’t home, was left unsaid. “—which means they were watching. Or told when to initiate the attempt.” Tanner added.

Q is only half paying attention to the discussion. Mark from IT-Branch came in earlier to hand him three new boxes of electronics - bless him. A new phone, laptop and hotspot router (because Bond’s place has no telephone or internet); unboxing them was like taking a hit for an addict in withdrawal. Q is preoccupied with setting them up and re-downloading data from the secure cloud services. He feels nearly like himself again. He had spent most of yesterday without them and he didn’t know what to do with himself.

“The place was untouched. The target was Q. What worries me is motive. Why would anyone take such a risk to provoke MI6 by abducting the Quartermaster knowing we would have the motivation and resources to go after them. Not unless the payoff is something that would massively change the way they forward their agenda. It has to be something they need him for. Something they can’t replicate, not even if they had the plans.” 007 concludes.

M who was rocking lightly in his chair whilst listening stops, leans forward and sighs. He looks over at Q, “What have you been working on?”

Mallory couldn’t keep track of all of it. Yes Q-Branch spent millions in R&D but they made the government (and by extension secured SIS funding) at least ten times what they spent. Declassified plans, schematics and programming codes sold at auction to private defence, Infosec and engineering companies for tens of millions.

The Q-Branch minions might be the butt of jokes at times in SIS, but their work not only kept operatives alive but helped keep the lights on in MI6. It is no wonder that MI5 wanted a slice of that pie. Sometimes M wondered why Q hasn’t left to go work in private. He’d asked him that once, and all he got in reply was something to the effect of ‘reigning in egomaniacal tendencies with public oversight and knowing which side you’re on’.

“Take your pick—” Q huffs in mild frustration, then realises who he was speaking to and adds,”—Sir.”

Q’s feeling tetchy this morning. Aside from tech withdrawal, his cold had gotten worse so his nose is completely stuffed. The general fatigue that accompanies a cold is exacerbated by his aching leg muscles from all that running the day before. Then he’d discovered he’d ripped a nail right off the finger bed in his haste to remove the hard drive so it stings when he types. He’s feeling a full on sulk coming. Bond already bore the brunt of his crabbiness this morning attempting to get him ready to come in to HQ.

“What about the project you’ve been working on with Mark? With the Shadow Network?” R said trying to be helpful.

“What about it? And please, I prefer Gemini Network - sounds less villainy.”

“I heard Mark say it could be a game changer, that it will give us the upper hand when it comes to controlling information.”

“Well in theory….” Q is being a little evasive.

Mallory looks over at Eve and tips his chin up at her. Eve knows at once to go and fetch Mark. They’ve learned over the years that when Q says something is ‘in theory’, it means he’s already gone ahead and built a proof a concept it or at the very least it tested the theory.

Mark enters the operations room like he’s been summoned to the headmasters office. “Sir? You asked to see me?”

“Tell us about the Gemini Network.” M dives right in without preamble.

“You mean the Shadow Network?” Mark looks for clarification.

“Why does everyone insist on calling it that?…” Q is slightly miffed.

Mark begins, “Well, the concept started years ago when we first used it to trap Silva in his earlier days. Quantum was trying to undermine your predecessor through Q-Branch, cascade of equipment failures leading to the death of a field agent. Basically we built a replica of Q-Branch systems and let Silva run his virus in it to learn what he was doing.”

“Since then we’ve evolved and developed the concept into a full shadow network that now protects MI6 systems. We created an AI shepherded by our cybersecurity team that patrols our systems; learning the normal functions - what’s secure, what’s not.” Mark pauses to check if everyone is still following.

“The idea is that when an anomaly in the system is detected, the AI isolates the suspicious node and shunts it into its shadow network. The shadow network presents itself as a legitimate fully functioning system and lets whatever suspicious activity continue unchallenged. But all the while it is watching and learning. It then flags the human team who can then decide if it is harmless or a legitimate threat. We can then use what it learns to patch the actual system. Think of it like an evolving immune system for cybersecurity. The more it learns the more robust it gets.”

Q then reasons, “The AI represents thousands of hours of machine training and learning, valuable in it of itself. But not impossible to recreate - though having MI6 as a training ground does make it harder for anyone to catchup to it.”

Bond notices Mark’s excited body language. The man is almost bouncing on his toes, “But… I’m guessing there is more to this…?”

Marks looks to Q and they have a non-verbal exchange. Those two are thick as thieves when it comes to programming, though Mark still refuses to transfer to Q-Branch for the sake of his sanity. Bond has met Mark numerous times, he likes the guy. Mark looks up to Q like an adoring little brother wanting someday to be just as good. Which means he’s an enabler who goes along with Q’s ideas without any sense of self preservation.

“Recently, Mark and I found a new application for it. We managed to package the AI into a worm that can be used to infiltrate a target network. It will still require us to inject it behind a firewall, either through hacking or physically. But once inside, it starts watching and learning - filtering traffic internally between nodes; as well as incoming and outgoing traffic outside of the network. It will sit dormant until activated…”

Eve’s eyes are wide, “Oh boys, what have you created?”

“…When activated, it will deploy the Shadow Network, into which we can shunt specific network traffic. A) The captured node still thinks its in the master system and functions normally. B) The AI then replaces the captured node with a mimic so to the master system, nothing is amiss.”

“The beauty of this is that it does not require us to crack security. When authentication is required, the AI simply returns the node back in to authenticate before shunting it back out. Do you see? We can compel any system to unlock its door by hiding behind the captured node.“ Mark points out looking like he’s about to explode with excitement.

Even Tanner is stunned now. R, who has heard it all before and told them repeatedly how dangerous of an idea this was - has her hands pressed together as if in prayer covering her mouth

“The node itself is tricked into thinking it is still interacting with the master system - which makes it voluntarily reveal information which we can collect or use as we see fit. Alternately we can seed it with misinformation to bring back to the master system.”

“Its the ultimate spy - Agent 1001.” Mark declares gleefully. His attempt at humour falls flat. If he‘d added Ta-Da! at the end of it, Bond was going to cuff him behind the head.

Mark pulls himself together and continues, “In practical terms it means we can change literally any information - while both sides remain unaware because there are now two truths depending on which network you are interacting with. ”

“But that’s just the start—.” Q takes over.

“There’s more?“ Mallory drawls out, feeling a migraine coming.

Q is apologetic, “What’s the most secure form of record keeping at the moment? …Blockchain. A set of records linked cryptographically together, with a distributed ledger that technically guarantees security. You can’t change any data in a block retroactively without changing all the subsequent blocks…. not unless you have consensus of at least 51% of all the nodes in the ledger.“

“Q… As riveting as this exposition is, get to the point.” Bond’s tone is a warning, his consonants sharper. Even he’s catching on to where this is leading and dreading it.

“Yes alright..” Q doesn’t get why everyone seems more upset than impressed.

”The point is, theoretically if we manage to get the worm into a peer-to-peer network and let spread throughout, we can apply the Shadow Network concept to launch a mass ‘eclipse attack’ on the distributed ledger. The nodes in the network must stay in constant contact to compare data for consensus. If the AI shunts off enough of the nodes into its Shadow Network and manage to trick 51% of the nodes into accepting our version of the chain before returning it, we change the ledger. Change the ledger and—“

“—You’ve hacked blockchain.“ Eve finishes for him, disbelieving.

“So are we talking about bitcoin?” Agent Coyle hazards a guess.

“Oh Agent Coyle… cryptocurrency is just the beginning. Just imagine any database that depends on blockchain for its immutability. Voting records? Supply chains? Financial records? Anti-counterfeit measures? The Shadow Network lets you - Change. Your. Digital. Reality.” Q finishes with a flourish; in purely intellectual terms, the concept is truly quite clever.

Tanner looks to Mallory alarmed,“Sir… 35 central banks are now experimenting with issuing digital state currencies on blockchain. At least 10 will be going ahead in this year and another 15 in the next 2 years.“

Silence. You could hear a pin drop.

Bond who has been standing off to the side of the monitors in his characteristic agent pose, legs apart one hand in his pocket; exhales loudly and points out ominously, “So whoever controls the AI, controls the Shadow Network and everything it can do - the Shadow Master. “

All heads in the room turn to Q….

“Yes, that would be one way of putting it. Personally, I prefer the term Shadow Architect,” Q chortles at the absurdity of the comic villain names.

But no one one else is laughing. And they’re all looking at him expectantly. Except Mark, he laughs at all of Q’s jokes.

-Christ-. Bond is torn between wanting to strangle the oblivious idiot himself and wanting to put the genius in a glass cage for his own safety.

A moment later, Q has a dawning realisation about what he’s managed to get himself into this time.

“It..Its just theoretical!” Denial.

“Technically this belongs to SIS…” Bargaining.

“We just thought it would be a helpful tool for our operatives to turn the odds in their favour!” Anger.

“What in the world possessed me to think…” Depression

“Owwh shit.” Acceptance.

Q stops his pacing in front of the monitor wall and collapses into a chair nearby. Elbows on his knees, head in his hands.

When he’s done cycling through emotions, M raises and eyebrow,“Well, I’m glad we’ve all come to the same conclusion,” M’s sarcasm flies over his head.

——

As a result of the meeting, Q & Mark are sent away to put their project into a secure vault in the servers - until M knows what to do with it. Q feels like they’ve just been sent to ‘time out’ - to think about what they’ve done.

Once he’s done that, he goes to Q-Branch to serve out his sentence.

Q-Branch is the only ‘secret’ arm in SIS that is located between the garage and basement bunkers. It’s more practical that way as larger projects (cars, boats, etc) would be a logistical pain to move if they were on the upper levels. Three whole floors make up Q’s lair that he shares with thirty or so minions.

It’s Saturday, so only a skeleton crew is present most of them are working in the floors below. None are in the office areas.

Bond is still in the meeting upstairs with M and the others. So Q makes himself tea and sticks his nose in the steam curling out of the mug to open his sinuses. He’s running through the theory he’s told the others in his head - trying to poke holes in it. But no, the simulation running on his computer is telling him how terrifyingly efficient the AI would be once activated.

The main doors to Q-Branch offices hiss open. Q doesn’t turn around, knowing who it is. Bond comes to sit a little noisily in a swivel chair next to him, facing the other way. He’s radiating ‘we need to talk’ vibes, but even then Bond usually just invades his space until Q speaks first.

“James, I’m sorry about being a tosser this morning. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. The eggs were fine.” Q makes a peace offering. And since no one is around, he reaches out to trace a finger around Bond’s tie pin.

Bond doesn’t move away which means he’s forgiven. Thats the thing with Bond, he’s not really a man of many words when he’s not actively trying to charm a mark. So when he does want to talk, best pay attention.

“Whats the damage?” Q asks.

“Mark is going to need his own protection detail.”

“Oh, he’s going to love that….” Poor Mark is going to have to explain that to his Bumble dates.

“Well, it might teach him not to be such an enabler and grow a pair around you.”

“Hah! Tell it to his face.”

“I did. Now, stop making him do things that will get him in trouble. You don’t want that on your conscience.” Bond chastises. The poor guy is like Igor to Q’s Dr Frankenstein.

Suitably reproached, Q doesn’t have anything to say for himself. He continues playing with Bond’s tie.

“Mallory is thinking of forming an internal oversight committee to run risk analysis on Q-Branch projects. He doesn’t want to accidentally end up with a cyberworld equivalent of a Manhattan project in his lap.

“He’s afraid I’ll turn into Ozymandias…,” then remembering that Bond probably didn’t get the reference, ”Antagonist, very smart, tries to take over the world.” He supplies by way of explanation.

Bond laughs a little, “If you do turn villainous, does that make me your henchman?”

Q considers, “More arc nemesis I should think. Don’t pretend that M won’t send you to shot me if I do. And don’t pretend you won’t either.”

“Are you expecting me to refuse?”

“No Mr Bond, I expect you to come get me.”

---- To Be Continued ---

#00q #00q fanfiction #00q fic #kidnapped!q #james bond #q

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the-voltage-diaries · 4 years ago

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[Review] The Sweetest Night: Taki & Kasatsubaki

This was probably the first story which I purchased the moment it hit the Love365 shelves, and I was most definitely not disappointed when I reached the end of it. Also, sorry this review is so late! Tumblr hates me, or so it seems. Special thanks to @voltage-vixen for helping me get certain things right! You’re a gem <3 Anyway, review under the cut~

ESSENTIAL INFORMATION: It’s a Special Story for Kings of Paradise, is charged at 300 coins and has a total of 8 episodes; Prologue + 3 (Kasatsubaki) + 4 (Taki), divided at 2 for his story and 2 for the PoV.

BASIC PLOT SUMMARY:

Prologue: The prologue starts off with MC sitting down by the pool and having a little bit of her girl talk with Sydney. She has a short flashback moment where she thinks about how she met the Paradiso men and mentions that is dating one of them. She asks Sydney if she wants to hear a story about something that happened recently and when Sydney gives her seal of approval, the MC says “Well, the other day... My boyfriend and I...” and the prologue ends. Also while we’re talking about the prologue, let’s not forget just how adorable Sydney's response is when MC asks her how long has Sydney known the men:

Hayachika Kasatsubaki (Serendipity and an Inevitable Reunion): MC visits an elite hospital, the Kasatsubaki Hospital, for a regular check-up, and mentions that she has been there a few times. After her check-up is done, she finds a place to sit, waiting for her boyfriend to pick her up. While she waits, she hears some nurses gush about the hospital director, their descriptive phrases making her imagine what he would look like. She does feel a sense of nostalgia when she hears about him, but she doesn’t think much of it. In a passing, they mention about him being divorced and MC, feeling uncomfortable now, decides to head out to the courtyard... where she finally meets the hospital director herself, a.k.a. Hayachika Kasatsubaki.

Taki Kozaki (The Sweetest Night): In a two-part story, with the remaining two episodes for Taki’s Point of View (PoV), the depth of the relationship between Taki and MC is highlighted by taking a short walk through both of their insecurities. It’s a fluffy story, without any explicit scenes, and shows how both Taki and MC have their own adorable and extravagant ways to deal with their share of insecurities, be it grumpy texts or extra large cakes. The story emphasizes on the manner in which they communicate with each other, being a lot more open about their feelings and depending on each other instead of dealing with it on their own. His PoV gives a glimpse of what an over-thinker Taki is when it comes to his girlfriend and him being good enough for her, and how much she means to him, in the purest of senses. P.S.: This man needs to be protected at all costs, he is so precious.

PRAISE:

Starting with the prologue itself, I LOVE how the entire story starts with an interaction with our best girl, Sydney. It’s precious on so many levels, I adore it.

Moving on to to Kasatsubaki’s story, I truly do appreciate what a fine gentleman he is. Throughout the story, he only kept gaining respect in my eyes the more the story the story progressed. He keeps a very respectful distance from the MC, addressing the fact that she is in a relationship, too. He has a goofy side too, where he tends to ramble a little or get too awkward and blush, which is something I cannot get over. Also, during his interaction with the MC, he makes sure to value her consent and comfort before doing anything, even so much as reflecting back on his actions in case he almost crossed any lines of social conduct.

Don’t even get me started on Taki’s story. It was simply ADORABLE. It had me squealing like a teenage girl whose crush replied to her ‘hi’ on Instagram. I truly do appreciate the emphasis on Taki and MC’s ability to communicate with each other, instead of taking on their issues by themselves, along with their honesty and trust in each other and their relationship. Taki’s small gestures, simple responses showing the utmost appreciation for his MC and him overthinking her one message to the point of even worrying about his future married life with her was the icing this cake needed. AND THEIR HILARIOUS WAYS OF HANDLING EACH OTHER I mean-. Wonderful, WONDERFUL story, hands down.

CRITIQUE:

I, personally, wasn’t very on with the idea of MC low-key fawning over Kasatsubaki when she already was in a relationship with one of the Pandora guys (not mentioned WHO, specifically). It felt a little off to me, but that might just be my own opinion.

Also, I didn’t find the sense behind the idea of Kasatsubaki examining MC (although not in an explicit or suggestive manner) in broad daylight, in the courtyard. It could have been done somewhere a little more... not open, I suppose. And with prior appointment? I mean, what was the rush to do the basic check-up right there and then?

MY RECOMMENDATION:

A THOUSAND TIMES YES!! This story was worth every coin I spent on it, no doubt. I could read it over and over and over again. The fact that this story is nothing too explicit and is mainly fluff and could be read anytime makes it even better. Believe me, its worth the read. It’s cute, funny, makes you lust over Kasatsubaki and Taki, definitely has the potential to make you squeal and is a story which would never get old with time. Worth the buy, for sure.

MY RATING: 4.5/5 5/5

#taki kozaki #kop taki kozaki #kings of paradise taki #kings of paradise #kop taki #kings of paradise taki kozaki #kop #love 365 #voltage inc #otome romance #otome #KoP 2nd anniversary story Taki #The Sweetest Night: Taki & Kasatsubaki #review #OMG THIS WAS SO CUTE I CANNOT #my little crumbcake~

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joy1579 · 4 years ago

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retrouvailles (part 1)

Jumin Han x MC fanfic (1391 words)

part 2 out now

over all summary: MC is the Singer at her Family’s wine bar called “retrouvailles”. Jumin Han corporate heir has fallen for her voice and decided to pursue a relationship with the Jazz and swing singer despite his usual distaste for romance. they face the challenges of press interference and hearsay, as they explore the waters of new romance.

chapter summary: Jumin Han has taken the first step in courting the lovely Jazz singer at his favorite hole in the wall wine bar, “retrouvailles”. when MC seems less than thrilled Jumin doubles down on his efforts and seeks the reason for her apparent distaste.

MC’s song presentation: PMJ’s cover of Feel Good Inc.

authors note: this is my first attempt at a multipart fic so if you like it leave me a comment or something so I know I’m doing okay! I got this idea on my way to work a couple days ago and couldn't get it out of my brain and I listen to PMJ jazz and swing covers WAY TOO OFTEN. I hope you all enjoy it!

Jumin Han swirled the dark port in his glass absently as he watched the singer on stage. MC Kang, as she was introduced before every show, wore a gold cocktail dress that complemented her skin tone perfectly. Her auburn hair covered one of her eyes to give her a more mysterious air tonight as she sang her newest swing composition. This was a piece Jumin hadn’t heard before though he had come here often, for the express purpose of hearing her sing.

He did not own the “retrouvailles” bar and it was not for lack of trying. How many times had he offered to buy the place for ten times its estimated value and still been turned down? Some part of him respected the owner for his resolute dedication to his family business, the larger part of him found the man irrationality and poor financial sense to be infuriating. Still every Thursday Jumin Han would slip away from the press and body guards to spend an evening sipping wine and listening to this woman sing. Her voice was a dark honeyed indulgence in his life, one he was somewhat embarrassed to admit he was becoming more and more reliant upon. With every passing week his resolve grew stronger and last week he had made his decision. He could not allow her to remain a simple voice that haunted his dreams as she had been recently, so he had decided to speak with her.

Last week he had taken the first step in his plan. He had ordered a dozen of the city’s finest roses to be delivered precisely when her show would end, with only his name by way of explanation. Her reaction surprised him however. she glanced his way and frowned slightly before she promptly turned away to retreat to the bar’s back room leaving the roses to be picked up by the pianist apologetically. He had not even had the chance to approach her let alone explain the meaning behind his gift. Rejection left a bitter taste in his mouth and he had to admit his distaste for it. Yet it was this distaste exactly that had spurred him forward, sending her a different bouquet nightly since. No notes adorned the subsequent bouquets as he had no doubt she was clever enough to put two and two together.

So it happened that he was here once again watching the stage lights dim as she stepped of the stage speaking jovially with the pianist, her brother and the one who was to inherit the bar when their father passed, if Jaehee’s research was to be trusted. Her brother nodded toward Jumin and her face darkened a bit before she turned to walk towards him.

“you know Mr. Han I’ve heard of you little club opening down town. I hope you know you can’t buy my talent; I don’t intend to sing anywhere else.” Her eye’s where stern, all business as she cut to what she thought must have been the heart of the matter. He understood now why she had been so critical. She saw him as competition, understandable considering his position at C&R. he was relieved to know she had not spurned him out of personal feelings. He stood from his seat setting his glass to the side to adjust one of the cuffs of his suit as he spoke.

“buying your talent was never my intention, and you may call me Jumin if you’d like.” Her expression didn’t shift as he had hoped it would. She didn’t sigh in relief that her family bar was safe from C&R acquisition for the time being or let curiosity light in her eyes as he had hoped instead he could feel the skepticism roll off her as she placed one hand on her hip.

“then what pray tell was, Mr. Han?” she asked emphasizing his name to show she had no intention of changing how she addressed him. “men don’t send flowers so diligently unless they want something. So what is it that you want?”. It was clear she was in business mode, cold and factual seeking the other parties’ motives to gain the upper hand in a negotiation. She was good he had to admit, the way she presented herself confidently as an impassive and immovable force was far different from the woman he had done business with before. He suspected she had hardened herself especially for this conversation, prepared herself for whatever offer or manipulation he may try.

“consider it a courtship gift” with that he saw her resolve falter and he smirked. He had caught her off guard and caused business mask to slip if only a bit. this game of cat and mouse was fun but he never was one to beat around the bush.

“I don’t appreciate the joke Mr. Han it seems rather tasteless considering you position.”

“it wasn’t a joke. I’ve enjoyed your performances immensely and I’d like to,” he paused for only a second to consider his phrasing “get to know you, if you’d be interested of course.” His voice was steady from years of trained control and he knew it betrayed none of the nervousness he felt. He had never been in this position before. He had never needed to ask for a woman’s time before, never had to fight for her approval. He was used to woman vying for his attention sure but MC seemed almost wary of it. As though he may be using her and not the other way around as he was so used to.

“I, excuse me?” her mask broke and he could see the confusion and nervousness in her eyes suddenly. On her part she had indeed planned for what she thought was every possible contingency. She had read every article she could find on him and they all pointed to one thing. Jumin Han was not a romantic. He had never been in a relationship that wasn’t later proven to be little more than rumor and circumstance. He was a loner, never needing anyone. So of course when she began receiving the daily flowers she had assumed a business proposition was on its way. She could never have imagined courtship as he so formally put it. She composed herself as best she could after such a complete upheaval or her expectations and made a concerted effort to keep her voice steady “I had never considered that possibility” she took another moment to breath removing her hand from its place on her hip to take a more demur posture. “to my knowledge you have never been a, shall we say, romantic. I assumed the flowers were sent to persuade me away from my families’ bar, honestly I had meant to tell you that it would take more than a few pretty petals to break apart my family. Oh I suppose I’m rambling; may I consider your offer? We can speak after tomorrows show if you’d like.”

She prayed he would agree. She needed time to regain the upper hand if she could, to consider the way this could affect “retrouvailles” and her family as a whole. She certainly didn’t want the bar to fail because of a misstep with a man who was essentially both their competition and the most financially powerful man in the country. Yet on the other hand she wasn’t sure she wanted to succeed because of some trite dalliance either. Dating always had its complications but she could tell already that a relationship with the Mr. Jumin Han would be on another level of difficulty all together.

“of course miss. Kang.” He said an easy smile on his face despite the swell of disappointment he felt. This was not rejection he had to remind himself. Not yet.

“MC, if you don’t mind. Miss Kang sound to formal for my liking, especially if we,” he could see something in her eye’s a spark of possibility before she caught herself. “never mind. I suppose I will see you tomorrow then?” she asked tilting her head slightly and causing her hair to cover one of her eyes yet again. A shield to hide herself from him.

“yes, MC” he agreed warmly. he watched her sly stage grin return as she began to turn away before pausing to look back at him.

“well goodnight then, Jumin”

#mysme #mystic messenger #mm #jumin #jumin han #jumin x mc #mysme jumin #mm jumin #retrouvailles AU

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uno-reverse-fic · 4 years ago

Text

Part 2 Chapter 4

You woke up the next day with renewed energy, having gotten a surprisingly good night's sleep for the past few days. You rushed around your room, getting dressed and gathering a bag with your phone and money. You slipped on your crocs and headed out of your room towards the common area. You snagged an apple from the kitchen for breakfast and shove a granola bar in your bag in case you got a bit hungry before lunch. Kirshima, Mina, Todoroki, and Iida were already waiting for the rest of the group to show up. You sat and conversed with them, as a few more of your classmates showed up. Midoriya, Ochaco, Jiro, Hagakure, Yaoyorozu, Sero, Kaminari, and Tokoyami eventually showed up and you all began your trip to the mall. You sat in between Midoriya and Kaminari on the train, sharing memes with the two of them. You could already feel your spirits begin to lighten.

Once you got to the mall everyone split up into three groups depending on where everyone wanted to shop. You went with Todoroki, Tokoyami, and Sero, and Jirou who were stopping at the emo-teen stores. You liked the anime merch that was usually in those places, but you didn't usually go to them for any other reasons, so you decided that you would break off from them and meet up with Midoriya, Iida, Ochaco, and Kirshima to check out the more nerdy, stores after you hit Hot Topic.

"Alright since Surō wanted to meet up with Midoriya's group we'll go to Hot Topic first, that way you can get on your way without us boring you in the rest of our emo-kid stores." Sero suggested, gaining nods of approval from the rest of the group. The five of you made your way to the second floor, where said shop was located. However without your knowledge, you caught the eye of someone who definitely didn't want you around.

You looked around a bit, gazing in awe at the huge wall of figurines, but nothing peaked your interest enough to spend money on, so you decided to check out and meet up with Midoriya's group.

"I'm gonna go find the others, see ya later!" You said, waving to your friends as you walked out into the busy crowd. You sent a text to Iida, who you knew would respond the quickest, asking where they were. Just as you suspected he responded quickly, and mentioned that they were a few stores to the right of the Hot Topic entrance. You began heading in that direction, and looked down at your phone once again to type a reply. However, in your multitasking, you didn't notice the hooded figure that walked right into you.

"Ow! Sorry, wasn't looking where I was going, my ba—" You looked up to see him walking right past you, clearly unfazed by your collision. He shot you a crooked, yellow, smile and tapped you on the back of the neck.

"Have fun," He whispered slyly in your ear. Then you felt it. An all too familiar, horrible nauseas feeling, accompanied by dizziness. You stumbled your way through the crowd, and caught yourself on a nearby bench. Out of the corner of her eye, Ochaco saw your sickened movements, and rushed over to help.

"Oh my god what happened is everything ok?!" She worried.

"Oh yea, I'm fine. Just felt a little light-headed there." You said, recovering from the sudden burst of sickness.

"Oh my gosh S-Surō! A-are you ok?!" Midoriya stammered, rushing over to you as well to make sure everything was ok. You nodded to him, and did the same to Iida and Kirshima when they asked.

"I'm fine, really. Probably just dehydrated." You told them, knowing full well why you had that nausea burst. He was back, the same villain from before, and you only had 24 hours to come up with a plan, and get him to fix this mess before it started. 24 hours, and the clock was already ticking.

You spent the rest of the morning silently brainstorming ideas, and looking around to see if you could find the villain again. You were sure your friends suspected something was up, but they didn't say anything about it. At lunch Ochaco told everyone what happened, and how they found you clutching onto the side of a bench, trying not to fall onto the floor. Immediately everyone began questioning you and worrying, you dismissed it as possible dehydration, and continued eating. After lunch had finished, everyone decided to go home, the morning seemed to have been enough time for everyone to shop around.

Everyone hung out in the common area when you got back, and rumors quickly spread about your dizzy spell. Everyone bought your excuse, except for one person, Bakugo. He knew exactly what was up, and decided to keep his eye on you until the inevitable happened. He didn't question you however, knowing you would only blow up in his face again, and you had seemed happy enough the past few days, he wanted to keep it that way. He also didn't miss the way you seemed to get lost in intense thoughts quite often that evening. You were trying to form a plan without telling anyone, trying to keep your problems to yourself instead of burdening everyone else, even though that was sure to get you killed.

That night after dinner you were sitting around the TV, talking with some of your friends, when an unexpected news report came on.

"Breaking News: a criminal known as Tarachi Isoya escaped captivity last night. He was last seen wandering around a mall, before leaving in a hurry. If you see this man do not engage with him, and do not allow him to come into direct physical contact with you. His emitter-class quirk allows him to shrink any object he touches, however it's effect only works 24 hours after initial contact. He is extremely dangerous and has successfully taken on pro heroes. If you see him, immediately call the police." Then the report ended, and all eyes immediately shot towards you.

"Heh heh, what a coincidence that I happened to get a dizzy-spell on the same day he showed up at the mall." You sweated nervously. Mina cut in,

"So, dehydration. Is that also a side effect of his quirk." She said sarcastically.

"Yea what were you gonna do once you... ya know. Shrunk?" Kaminari asked, wary of his word choice, for fear of another attack.

"Ok, lets stop harassing the soon to be shorty and formulate a buddy system." Kirshima remarked, sliding in a small joke along with his idea.

"I don't need a buddy system." You said,

"I'm fine."

"You wont be saying that tomorrow at— wait do we even know what time it happened?" Ochaco asked. Midoriya shook his head,

"No, I vote for the buddy system strategy."

"Oo oo! We can make it like a game! Each hour we'll switch out, and we can draw lots to see who gets which hour of the morning! And then whoever is around when she shrinks gets to take care of her until we can figure out what to do next!" Kaminari chimed in again. That was it, you couldn't take the thought of your friends placing bets on your life. To them maybe it was a simple game to see who would have to hold the responsibility of taking care of another human, but to you, this was a live or die situation.

You got up and went to the bathroom, passing Bakugo, who was obviously eavesdropping, on your way there. He grabbed your arm before you could go any further.

"What do you want blondie?" You asked him.

"I wanna give my input on the situation." He said.

"Fine make it quick." You snapped.

"I think you shouldn't have tried to hide it from them in the first place, they eventually would have picked up on it, and if not you'd be dead meat without me. I was the only one who knew, and I know for a fact you would rather die than spend another week with me," You nodded at him, confirming his assumption,

"I don't think its right that they're drawing lots to see who gets to carry you around in their pocket for who knows how long. However, the idea of someone keeping an eye on you isn't a bad one. Just try to take my advice, and rather than have them decide who takes care of you, do it yourself. Make a decision quickly, before you dont have any authority over them." He concluded, letting go of your arm, and finding that you didn't storm off right away. Instead you pondered his idea for a moment before shaking your head and turning to head to your room.

"Tch, idiot. She's gonna wake up tomorrow and realize she shoulda listened to me." He muttered to himself before turning in for a good night's rest.

The next day you woke up to a knocking on your door,

"Surō, wake up! We cant have you in your bed all day, we have to keep an eye on you!" Iida exclaimed, his overly enthusiastic voice muffled by the door.

"Ok, gimme a few minutes." You already hated today, it was once again the beginning of your living nightmare. You pulled on the same gray t-shirt and red shorts you had worn the last time, having found they were quite comfortable to spend an entire week in. You slugged downstairs to be greeted with words of worry, and concern. You were completely mad at anything and everything, your weekend was ruined beyond belief. You made yourself your last cup of coffee for the next few weeks, and quickly downed the hot liquid. Today was going to be entirely about avoidance. You dropped your mug in the sink, and before you could run back off to your room, you were greeted with Ochaco's smile.

"Hey Surō! So last night we drew lots, and lucky me, I got the first hour!" She said cheerfully, but her voice soon dropped,

"Sorry about all of that, after you left Midoriya suggested that we let you decide, but you had already gone to sleep, so we were forced to go with Kaminari's idea." She told you, and you shrugged at her.

"Maybe we can take a walk outside since it's supposed to rain later today." She suggested.

"Sounds good to me." You knew the real reason she suggested that, it was because it was one of the last normal things you could do before your life went tumbling downhill again. You went with it anyway, taking her idea as a gift of gratitude. It was too bad she definitely wouldn't be the one to keep you for the next few weeks, you trusted her kind nature.

The first hour consisted of you and Ochaco chatting, and walking around the campus, by the time you made it back to the dorms, Yaoyorozu was waiting patiently, with a hot cup of tea, for your arrival. You spent the next hour with her, and the hour after that was with Midoriya, the two of you watched anime the entire time. After that was Mina, who decided that watching a rom-com would be a delightful way to spend her hour with you, the movie wasn't bad and despite your lack of endearment towards that genre, Mina ended up finding one that you enjoyed quite a bit. However this cut into the next hour, which you were to spend with Kirshima,

"Aw darn, I didn't wanna disturb your movie, so I waited til you finished, but now we only have 40 minutes." He complained, and you comforted him with a pat on the back.

"Sorry bout that. I gotta go to the bathroom real quick is that ok?" You asked.

"Yea, I'll wait right here." He answered, and you made your way to the bathroom for a short break. You weren't the happiest camper, because next up was Kaminari, and you definitely didn't wanna get stuck with him.

As you walked out of the bathroom however, you saw Bakugo walking in your direction, hands shoved in his pockets, and eyes fixed ahead of him. He wasn't there to watch you, but his plans soon changed when he saw you stumble back with a surprised look on your face. A horrible wave of dizziness and nausea washed over you, and in a panic, you stumbled backwards, tripping over your own feet. Bakugo's fast reflexes allowed him to catch you before you fell, but he gasped when you began shrinking in his hold. Your eyes opened and immediately locked onto his, you quickly pushed from his hold and stood up to regain your composure, but your pride was short lived. You watched in horror as everything grew around you steadily. Your eyes darted around frantically, and when they landed on Bakugo you felt the tears run down your face.

"No. No. No. Not here. Not now." You said, backing away from him. You didn't want a repeat of last time, you were scared, terrified, as Bakugo's growing form loomed over you. Tears ran down your face,

"Please, please don't take me." You cried to him, his hand came down gently on your shoulder, enveloping it, and part of your arm, as you continued to shrink.

"Surō listen to me. I'm not gonna hurt you, please stop looking at me like that." He said, but you couldn't move, frozen in place with terror. You were at his waist now, and he slumped down to his knees to level himself with you. He spoke again,

"Surō, please, trust me. I'm not going to make the same mistake twice. I'll protect you with my life. I promise. Please just forgive me, I had no idea what I was doing to you." He pleaded, it surprised you, he was practically begging for you to trust him. You had no idea what compelled you to do so, but in that moment you listened to him. You wrapped your arms around his growing neck, standing on his thigh to reach him as best you could. You felt his hands wrap onto your back, comforting your shrinking form. You cried into his chest, feeling his hands behind you, and you felt safe. You didn't completely trust him, but there was something in the way he spoke to you, that compelled you to listen. You felt the warmth of his chest, and you could hear his heart beating, growing louder with every second.

But just as soon as it began, it was over. You slumped against his hold, feeling his hands tremble slightly at the feeling of your tiny form. You could feel him tense up when you shifted to look up at him. He held a look of concern in his eyes, and he took a deep breath before he spoke to you once again,

"Your safe with me."

MASTERLIST

#mha #g/t #fanfic #bakugo #bakugo katsuki #bakugo x reader #bakugo x oc #bnha #UNO REVERSE

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ranger-lcat · 5 years ago

Text

Cold Qrow - Part 3

We now return to fluff and nonsense

Part 1 Part 2

—

Dinner

“I thought this was from the cafeteria.”

“It is.”

Qrow just looked disbelieving at the table. Dinner came with lasagna, garlic bread, and a salad. James was placing the servings onto new plates.

“Are you sure those are the plates you want to use? They seem… expensive.”

“I’m sure it will be fine.”

“Are ya’ sure? I already broke a glass today.”

“Yes, now sit down and eat.”

They ate quietly. Qrow was savoring the flavors. He was convinced that James was lying, cafeteria food had no business being this good. He just couldn’t figure out what was to be gained from a lie like that. Maybe they just put extra effort since it was for the General.

He nearly knocks over his glass of water. At least he grabs it before it can spill. Setting it down carefully, he looks at James, who has an eyebrow raised.

“I’m telling you, you’re gonna want something less fancy if I’m gonna be staying.” Qrow tapped the edge of the plate with his fork.

“Or I just fill out a form and they replace it.”

“How many times you want to fill that out?”

“Enough that they’ll finally update them to something a little more practical looking.”

“You know, me knowing you want them broken is going to drastically reduce the number of accidents.”

“That’s a shame. Perhaps we’ll have to break a few anyway.”

—

Time to Talk

“So, I know we’ve kinda had a thing in the past. But, we’ve both grown and changed, and now, I was hoping you would be willing to try something more… permanent.”

“How permanent?” That word. It made him anxious. He liked James. But the girls still needed him and he wasn’t exactly good at the whole domestic thing. Or relationships in general. How did people put up with him again?

“I just want to try, and to know if you leave, you will come back.”

“That sounds... doable.” Qrow agrees.

—

New Outfit

“So your nieces and their friends have all designed their new clothes.”

“Jimmy, I’m not into fashion. There’s a reason I haven’t updated my look.”

“I’m aware, I just have a little something you might like to try on.”

James brought a box out and handed it over to Qrow so he could go change. It was actually nice looking. Dark colors. And the fabric was more suited for the Atlas cold. He tries it on, looking himself over in the mirror. It suited him. Actually made him feel new and strong again. James would want to see how it looked. Make sure everything was in order.

“What do you think?” Qrow sticks his hands in the pockets, trying not to blush. He felt awkward.

“It looks good.” James smoothed out the collar and made sure the cape was even. Then smoothed out the creases of the vest. His hands pause on Qrow’s hips. “You’ve lost weight.” He comments.

“And you grew a beard. Life’s rough.” Qrow shrugs.

“You don’t like the beard.” James stroked it self consciously. Qrow smirks.

“I'm not sure. It makes you look distinguished, but I don’t know if I can handle datin’ someone with more scruff than me.” He pulls James closer in a hug, rubbing their cheeks together so that their scruff scraped together. James shoves him away.

“Get off.” The tone is joking so Qrow smirks at the challenge.

—

Telling the Girls

“Uncle Qrow, you’re feeling better!” Ruby stands up from where the whole group was sitting.

“And you’ve got some new threads.” Yang remarked.

“Yeah, James thought it would suit me.” Qrow tugged on the lapels, “What do ya think?” He twisted a little bit to give his audience a better look.

“You look very sharp.” Weiss commented.

“Oh, high praise from the Ice Princess.” Yang teases.

“Well, looks like it’s got the Atlas stamp of approval.” Qrow relaxes his stance.

“The General knows your size?” Nora asks.

“Oh, he must.” Ruby jumps on that. “It fits so well. And we have to wait for our stuff, he must have gotten it made ahead of time.”

“Why would he have an outfit made ahead of time for your uncle?” Jaune asks, “We didn’t even know we were going to make it to Atlas.”

“Well, umm…” this conversation was spiraling out of control and going places Qrow didn’t want to them to think about.

“I think someone has a crush on your uncle~” Nora teases.

“Nora, that’s silly. The General hardly has the time for romance.” Weiss scoffs.

“I don’t know Weiss. Looks like a crush to me.” Yang says.

“Are you gonna respond?” Ruby asks him. “Maybe you should ask him out first! He might be nervous.”

“Well, we’re kinda already doing dinner tonight.” Qrow rubs the back of his neck, hoping that he’s not actually blushing. His nieces both squeal in excitement. He was gonna regret this.

-Meanwhile with Ironwood-

“Permission to speak freely sir.” Winter requests.

“Granted.”

“I thought you had standards.”

“I am happy for you General Ironwood. I understand congratulations are in order.” Penny says.

“Thank you Ms. Polendina.”

“So when is the wedding?”

James chuckles as Winter splutters indignantly.

—

Escort Mission

-Qrow is Ironwood’s ‘extra security’ at the council meeting.-

The suits from yesterday look nervous. Qrow observes them with the most board expression he can muster. Then he squints slightly at them. Ironwood notices the stare and leans to whisper in Qrows ear.

“Trying to intimidate them?”

“Just making them uncomfortable for you.” Qrow whispers back. His red eyes were probably enough for this crowd to be nervous, but the glare was actually getting shaking.

“We should formally introduce you.” Ironwood pretends to brush some dust off his coat and calmly strides to the pair. “Gentlemen, lovely to see you. Do you have your proposal ready?”

“Yes we do, umm who’s—“

“Apologizes, this is my security for the evening, Huntsman Qrow Branwen.”

“Huntsman?” Green suit squeaks.

“Yes. He’s one of the best. Wouldn’t trust him otherwise.” James puts an arm around Qrow’s shoulders.

“If all the council would take their seats.” An announcement was made, calling the meeting to order.

“Excuse me.” James said, striding confidently to his designated spot.

Qrow leans in the corner near where James is sitting. The security of this place was tight and top notch. The extra security wasn’t necessary in the actual room. It was more to and from the meeting precaution. Other council members had their own security, but they hadn’t come into the room. Qrow was certain the only reason he was still in the chamber was the fact that James had two seats on the board.

The meeting itself was dull and Qrow zones out as they went through the itinerary. Letting his gaze drift around the room, watching James sit at attention as the others were speaking. Commanding attention when he spoke himself. His gaze also lingered on the two suits from yesterday. Although they were not interesting.

“Mr. Azure do you have your proposal ready?”

“Of course.” Blue suit responded. He stood up quickly, knocking against the table he was sitting at. The bump is enough for the water pitcher at his table to tilt and fall, spilling water over his scroll. It shorts out instantly causing sparks to fly up.

Qrow smirks, calmly taking a few steps forward and leans over to whisper to James.

“Whoops. My bad.” James hides his smile behind his hand. “I should step out before somethin’ else happens.” Green suit’s water pitcher is knocked over in the confusion of trying to clean up Blue suit’s spill. The second pitcher sloshed it’s water into its owners lap.

“Perhaps that is for the best. There’s a waiting room two doors down for entourages. Make yourself comfortable.”

—

James’s Turn

The meeting was finally over.

Qrow appears behind James. He was trying to be subtle, and it seemed to work given the person talking with James jumped. James didn’t flinch. Qrow didn’t expect him to.

“There you are Qrow.” James tucks his scroll away. “Shall we be off?”

“Of course.”

The walk back through the sprawling Atlas Academy was quiet, most everyone was gone from these parts of the buildings at this time. It gave time for Qrow to observe.

James looked a little strained. Qrow pulls off to the side of a hallway, dragging James with him.

“You feelin’ ok?”

“Just a headache.” James admits pinching the bridge of his nose.

“You still feelin’ up for dinner?”

“I did promise you.” James looked so tired. Qrow placed a hand on James’s cheek, letting him sigh and relax against the palm.

“How’s about we order in instead. Just relax at your place.”

“I would love that.”

“Cool, can you get pizza delivered or is Atlas too fancy for that.”

“I could, or we could skip the disappointment.”

“What, how can they mess up pizza?”

“I don’t know but they have.”

“Fine, I’ll face that another day.”

#rwby #ironqrow #qrow branwen #james ironwood #fluff #all the fluff #cold Qrow #mine #writing

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thequeenb · 5 years ago

Text

Destiny (part 2)

Pairings: KamilahxMC

A request from @lightning-fury

Amy smiled widely "What about we start a Clan?" the two women looked at each other surprised "ar- are you sure we know you are busy and-" "oh nonsense, imagine the potential" she looked at Cal her bodyguard. "How about we do something unique..i will give a home but not only to you..to werewolves..to witches to supernatural creatures to feel safe" Cal smiled the two women took in the words "that would be amazing".

Amy the past month gave home and a brand to about 300 vamprires, 200 werewolves 100 witches and wizards and her clan only expanded. Her reputation as a power CEO brought her admiration from all of them.

It was late at night when Amy was in her office working. She suddenly became like someone familiar, always working, being cold. She looked at her Rolex diamond watch, it was midnight. Before she could get up from her chair she felt dizzy.

Embrace the power..you aren't weak, dont deny your powers.

And when she opened her eyes she screamed in fear. "Cal!!". Within seconds Cal ran inside and gasped. Amy was actually floating "Miss Parker ho--" but then she fell unconscious to his arms as he caught her.

When she opened her eyes she felt her head heavy, Cal on her side. "Drink some water Miss" he said as he gave her a glass that she happily accepted. "What happened..how i.." it was all to confusing for her, but there is only one explanation. Her Bloodkeeper powers.

"Cal i would like to stay alone" he didn't need another word to leave. What the hell is happening to me. She wished she could talk to Adrian, he always did research, he always knew what to say. She signed before she laid back on her bed, hoping it was a nightmare.

The next morning she was a whole better than yesterday. She walked to the kitchen tiredly, her nightmares kept her awake. She always saw weird dreams, a woman's voice talking to her, asking her to embrace her blood.

She quickly dismissed the thoughts and grabbed the chair. But when she looked down it was torn in half. "WHAT THE HELL??!!"

That was the last straw for her. She needed answers but didn't knew where to find them. She was scared to touch anything or suddenly find herself through the air. She hurried to her training room locking the door.

Okay Amy relax..deep breaths..deep breaths.

She couldn't relax. Something was happening to her and she didn't knew what it was.

You hold much more that just memories.. embrace it!!

That voice again echoed in her mind. She felt hypnotized, like someone else guide her. She made her hand into a fist and punched the wall hard. When she opened her eyes the wall was broken. Oh..my.. relax Amy..oh my god i have powers..

She repeated it out loud many times i have powers..i have powers

But then a wide smile that reached her eyes appeared on her face "I have powers".

The next couple of weeks passed with Amy training everyday almost all day. She embraced her powers completely trusting the voice inside her. She could run like a vamprire, have the strength of a vamprire, float like Vlad and so much more she didn't discover yet.

It was amazing, almost a miracle but she didn't questioned it, she loved power. She wasn't helpless anymore she was a leader, a powerful one.

She called a meeting with all her Clan members to announce a plan she had been working on for months.

Everyone was confused on why the meeting is happening. Whispering and conversations could be heard through the room but everything stopped when Amy stepped inside.

"My precious army" she started as her high heel's clicks sounded deadly. "You are here today to hear the best news, we aren't weak we are strong. Stronger than any other Clan but you know we aren't completely approved yet" a few whispers grew in the room "Silence! Tomorrow night i have a meeting with the USA government, my plan goes fantastically" she smiled widely and everyone felt comfort "You might wonder what my plan is" she paused as she walked closer to one of the members "Do you wonder what my plan is?" She asked him casually stroking her cheek "Y-yes Miss" he said with a shaky voice feeling her power running through her veins, he was indeed scared. Before he could react her dagger went straight through his chest becoming ashes. Everyone gasped "No one should doubt me!!" her angry voice echoed into the empty room "Dont have the same fate as him" she said before leaving.

Amy was a scary leader, she leaded with fear and terror. The meeting was tonight, her only problem? It was in New York. The place she never wanted to come back to. She watched the city through her limousine window in disgust, memories running through her mind.

Not long after they passed through Ahmanet Financial and Amy chuckled "i am coming to get you soon" she said smiling knowing Kamilah was in there working endlessly.

She arrived in the building they agreed to meet. Tonight she was wearing a beautiful black dress with Gucci boots and a LV handbag. She looked professional and elegant as ever.

A woman led her to a conference room where 2 men and a woman were already sitting. "Hello Miss Parker, i am happy you came to meet us" the man said smiling "the pleasure is all mine" she said with an evil grin. "I am Mark Johnson i am responsible for the US army" a tall old man said "I am Cecilia Bennett Secretary of Defense" the woman said crossing her arms "And you know me i am sure" a handsome man in his late thirties said smiling "John Pembrooke the president of US" Amy shook his hand stunned. Never in her life she could imagine having a meeting with the most important people of the government. "We took your request into consideration but we are afraid that its impossible" Cecilia said with a look of annoyance. Amy always had an ace up her sleeve "Are you familiar with the Feral problem?" Amy started saying and everyone looked at each other "Do you see any changes? After Adam Vega's death nothing changed with all due respect but the Council isnt doing enough" she proudly sat back into her chair taking in the sight of 3 confused people who are considering. "And it will change if you are added as one of the Clans?" John said crossing his arms "Why yes i am very serious at what i do i think i proved that" she said as she waited patiently. The three of them whispered taking in the advantages and disadvantages of that action. "After reconsidering we approve to make you as the 7th Clan on the Council" John said shaking Amy's hand who smiled victoriously.

The announcement didn't took long to arrive into the council's ears. An emergency meeting was held in Adrian's office. Kamilah was furious pacing around the room "A powerful Clan is added to the council? Thats absurd!!" Adrian signed there wasn't much he could do "i hope whoever that is to be yummy" Priya said licking her lips. "Is this one of your tricks?" The Baron said angrily looking at Adrian "Does it look like it??". Everyone were lost in thought before Lester broke the silence "It was a matter of time until they replace Adam's spot" everyone looked at him confused "Thats probably the smartest thing you ever said" Priya said laughing. "A council meeting will be held next week here so we will see who we are dealing with" Kamilah said with a scary voice.

Days had passed and Kamilah couldn't calm until she find every bit of information about the mysterious Clan leader. Karen knocked on the door interrupting her thoughts "I am sorry to interrupt but Lily is here as you requested"

Lily walked through the office amazed "Wow cool place Kam!" Kamilah rolled her eyes "dont touch anything and if you call me like that again i will cut your tongue" Lily nodded sitting on a leather chair curiously "So why did you want to see me?"

"How is Amy hm?" Kamilah said struggling to say her name out loud after all this time. "Um.. Look i dont want to--" but Kamilah stood up angrily "I said how's Amy?" Lily swallowed hard thinking what should she say " She is fine. Working. In LA" Kamilah looked at her with her red eyes "You lie".

Defeated Lily signed "She is in New York ok? Not for long" and with that she gained a satisfied grin from Kamilah.

The moulin rouge Kamilah thought looking through the papers her assistant gave her. She asked Karen to gather information about the new Clan and she happily found out that the Leader owns a club in New York. "Karen clean my schedule" she said to her assistant planning on giving a little visit.

When she arrived at the destination she saw a big line of people begging to get in. Of course she got in within seconds. She was Kamilah Sayeed after all.

What she didn't knew was that Amy was the owner, even better Amy was there.

As she walked in the loud music played like a drum on her chest. She looked around unimpressed and walked to the bar. The barwoman had wings? What was happening?

"Excuse me isnt it here the Moulin rouge?" Kamilah asked her thinking she found the wrong place. "Yea it is" the woman replied "Should i get you a drink?" Kamilah nodded "One whiskey and make it strong"

Amy was dancing gracefully swinging through the beat when she spotted a familiar silhouette.

Oh this will be interesting. She thought walking towards her.

Kamilah was lost in thought when a familiar figure appeared Infront of her. She was wearing a short gold dress that anyone could see her chest in, black high heels and diamonds all around her. The expensive perfume filled her nose and her eyes drank the sight of her ex lover being so close to her after so long.

"Kamilah? What a surprise" Amy said sipping her Martini. Kamilah didn't respond she was just staring at her lost "What? A cat took your tongue?" Amy said laughing sarcastically. "Okay then i have more important thi--"

"Amy" Kamilah said as her breath caught in her throat. "I give you one minute because i am kind" Amy responded admiring her new nails looking uninterested. Kamilah wanted to scare her off again, she wanted to break her enough to never return back. "What a mewling mortal do to such a cliché club?" There we go again with the mewling mortal thing, little does she know she isnt exactly mortal "I see some habits didn't change Kami, but guess what i did" Amy said before leaving.

Kamilah wanted to order another drink when she noticed everyone gathered around into a circle. Curiously she followed the crowd a man on the middle.

"As you know my fellow members we are reckless, strong, unbeatable and we honour our master with this fight" the crowd cheered loudly, Kamilah scoffed.

"For the new ones here, whoever is brave enough challenge one of us to fight, the winner decides what the loser has to do, but careful" he said as fire hovered over his palm "death is required, and magic is involved" the crowd cheered more and more "who will be our lucky champion?" he said looking around. Kamilah stepped forward crossing her arms "I will"

"Oh that will be interesting, and who will be your prey" Kamilah smiled looking at Amy on the other side of the circle. "You" she said pointing at her. The crowd gasped but Amy stepped forward chuckling "if i win, which i will you will leave New York and never come back" Kamilah said smiling. Amy laughed "and if i win you will move in with me, be my roommate"

Kamilah tried to hide her laugh "Oh sweet human thing i accept your defeat" the man stepped between them "Are you ready? And go!"

Kamilah didn't believe this was happening, her against Amy? Never in a million years she thought about it. If Adrian knew he would be furious, she thought but her thoughts were gone when Amy led her to the empty street. The crowd gathered around cheering.

"We dont have to do this, you can go and never come back" Kamilah said proudly but her pride was erased when Amy pushed her hard against the wall with a simple move "What the--" but before she could react Amy had daggers out ready to fight. Kamilah broke free looking at Amy lost "I dont understand..how??" But Amy just chuckled and in a blink of an eye pinned Kamilah to the ground. She couldn't move even if she tried. The cheers around them became a blur as they gazed into each other's eyes. Amy's danger was hovering over Kamilah's chest "I guess i won" she said but Kamilah pushed her hard. Amy landed near and run furiously to Kamilah's direction. Her dangers made a satisfying wound into Kamilah's stomach. Kamilah watched herself bleed and Amy smiling. How is this happening? But Amy was quick to dodge every attack Kamilah attempted. "Is that all you got?" Amy laughed victoriously watching the vamprire struggle. Stubborn as ever she tried to attack one last time. Amy with one move had blue fire hovering over her palm that made Kamilah stop. "You have powers like.." Amy smiled "the strongest vamprires" she finished her sentence sending Kamilah in a near by wall making it clear who won.

The cheers became louder and louder. Kamilah wanted to flee but she felt trapped into her own body. Stupid agreement she thought cursing herself. She didn't knew what Amy hide within her but for the first time she felt scared.

Before she could think further Amy was standing before her smiling "who is weak now?", before Kamilah could respond her hand hovered over her temples.

"What are you--" but before she could finish her sentence she felt dizzy. "You wont remember this night's events" was the last thing she heard before passing out.

Tag list: @galaxyside-0 @scarlet-letter-a0114 @la-guera-69 @idkbutkamilah @ilovetaylor13m

#bb kamilah #kamilah is my queen #kamilah sayeed #choices kamilah #kamilah x mc #bloodbound #play choices #pb choices #choices you play #choices #choices fanfiction #choices fandom #choices fic #bloodbound kamilah #Kamilah x mc #bloodbound fandom #bb fanfic

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youcancallmecirce · 5 years ago

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Avatar AU, The Lost Firebender Ch. 6: Before the Ice

An interlude relating the story of Zuko's early life.

Ch 1 * Ch 2 * Ch 3 * Ch 4 * Ch 5 * Ch 6 on AO3

Zuko had never been his father’s favorite. He’d never had a chance, as that role had already been filled when Zuko was born. Azulon, first born son of Fire Lord Sozin, was a bending prodigy, a tactical genius, and a natural born leader who would do what was necessary for the good of the Fire Nation. Azulon was the perfect son-- had been the perfect son for ten years already-- and Zuko would never, ever compare.

Still, he might have at least gained acceptance had he not shown himself to be thoughtful, compassionate, and utterly unmotivated to master his bending.

Sozin believed that these behaviors were a result of the Fire Lady’s cosseting, so he heavily restricted the time that they spent together when Zuko was quite young. Instead, Sozin put Zuko in training with his brother. Teaching Zuko would be a useful experience for the future Fire Lord, and hopefully, Azulon would kindle an appropriate level of fire and ambition in Zuko.

This strategy was successful, but only to a point. Under his brother’s tutelage, Zuko quickly developed an interest in his bending. Pain was a powerful motivator, as Sozin had so often remarked, and Azulon was not reticent about employing that particular tool. Even more effective than the threat of pain was the never-kept promise of approval.

Azulon touted his own successes in the course of each lesson, and held himself up as the standard to meet. If only Zuko could perform a task as well as Azulon could, he would prove himself worthy of his family line and and finally earn his father’s approval. In this way, Azulon inspired a deep competitiveness in his younger brother, but as he had no idea how to nurture that competitive drive, Zuko was taught to believe that he was inherently inferior rather than inspired to improve.

Azulon, for his part, liked the arrangement no more than Zuko did. He chafed at the necessity of working with his ‘deficient, useless baby brother’, and felt that his time would be far better spent pursuing his own studies or commanding his own unit of Fire Nation Soldiers, or even working on the clandestine munitions program, developing and testing weapons and equipment for the rapidly growing army. He was wasted on his brother.

The situation came to a head when Zuko was 13.

His temper, which had always been short-fused, ignited at last and he attacked his brother outside the sparring ring.

Azulon, of course, was able to deflect him easily, but the damage was done. Zuko had behaved without honor and would have to face the consequences of his actions: he would have to face his brother in an Agni-Kai.

This was enough to make Zuko quake with fear. Azulon, now 23, was a Fire Master in his own right, but Zuko had grown to hate his brother and a large part of him relished the opportunity to truly fight him. He prepared for the Agni-Kai with the same determination he brought to all things, only to discover that he wouldn’t be fighting his brother after all.

His behavior had been an insult to his entire line, and he would therefore be fighting its head: Firelord Sozin himself.

Zuko begged for mercy. He did not have the hatred of his brother to insulate him from the reality of the fight, and his father frightened him infinitely more than his brother did.

“You will fight for your honor,” Sozin said, his voice cold and hard.

Zuko sank to his knees and bent his forehead to the floor. “I meant you no disrespect, Father,” Zuko cried. “I am your loyal son.”

“Rise and fight, Prince Zuko!” Sozin snapped, losing what little patience he possessed.

Zuko rose to sit back on his heels, and stared beseechingly at his father. “I won’t fight you,” he said.

“You will learn respect,” Sozin snarled, “and suffering will be your teacher!”

Roku looked away, unable to watch as the Firelord struck his son. The scent of burnt flesh filled the air only a moment after Zoku’s agonized scream.

Roku was Sozin’s senior Firesage, and as such, attended council meetings to serve as Sozin’s advisor on matters of spirituality. He had never liked Sozin, yet his position was a precarious one; he sought to temper the Firelord’s cruel reign in small ways, but was careful not to overstep himself. He certainly never revealed his personal feelings regarding the Firelord. If he wanted to maintain his role in the royal house, even his very life, he had to remain in Sozin’s good graces.

For this reason, he had always felt a kinship with the younger Prince. It pained him to see the boy suffer at the hand’s of his family but there was little he could do to prevent it. Zuko had grown into an angry, conflicted child with a burning desire to prove himself yet no hope of ever actually doing so. Each day, the shining spirit of the very small boy he had been before tarnish just a little bit more.

“Even if he’d been born first,” Sozin had said more than once in the boy’s presence, “Azulon would still be the next Firelord.”

Zuko no longer reacted visibly to that comment, offered as it always was as a statement of simple fact rather than an insult to the child, but Roku had no doubt that it cut the boy deeper each time he heard it.

And each time, Roku could sense the boy burying himself deeper within a callous shell of indifference.

Now, at last, Roku could watch no longer. He decided to attempt the one solution that actually had a chance of succeeding: he volunteered to take on the remainder of Zuko’s training, to keep him from disgracing himself and their family further, and to attempt to help the boy regain his honor.

Roku feared that he had indeed overstepped himself when he proposed this idea to the Firelord. It had taken him several minutes to respond, and during that time even the self-possessed Roku had begun to sweat. Sozin was unpredictable at best; chaotically cruel at worst.

To his relief, Sozin welcomed the suggestion. “That pup is a disgrace,” Sozin had said from behind his concealing wall of fire. “But he is still a Prince of the Fire Nation and must be treated as such. You are of sufficiently elevated status as to be an appropriate mentor for him, and I trust you as I do not trust anyone else to give him the kind of education he requires.”

Roku wasn’t sure that was actually a good thing--did the Firelord expect him to be as brutal as Azulon?--but he was pleased with the outcome of that audience, regardless.

Roku had Zuko’s things transferred to the Firesages’ wing of the palace immediately, and personally assumed the oversight of his recovery.

Zuko’s face had been badly burned; a grotesque scar was inevitable, and the healers feared that he would ultimately lose his left eye as well. Roku did everything in his power to ensure that he did not.

They kept him sedated through the worst of it, both to spare him the pain of it and to prevent him from doing more damage by accident. He set an acolyte the task of combing through the library at the temple, to glean every available scrap of information about healing, and made sure that the healers made use of the information. It was a slow process, but the boy did heal without infection, and without losing the use of his left eye.

Zuko, when he was allowed to wake and learn of his new circumstances, resisted the change. He felt that he’d received a demotion, and therefore an insult, in being given to Roku. He perceived an even greater insult when Roku informed him that his bending lessons were to be suspended indefinitely, and replaced with traditional martial arts and blade work.

Sozin and Azulon were of the same opinion, and Azulon in particular made sure that Zuko knew it. Zuko would have to earn the right to resume his firebending instruction, they said, since it had been his firebending that he’d used to attack his brother.

That was not at all Roku’s reasoning, but he let the misunderstanding stand. He wanted the Firelord to mistake his motives. It gave him more freedom to teach the boy as he saw fit.

Zuko had been all but paralyzed in his bending as a result of his brother’s cruelty and his father’s brutal attack. Roku knew that if the boy were ever to overcome that, he would first need to learn confidence in a completely different arena.

They began with tai chi to re-strengthen Zuko’s convalescent body, and to lay the groundwork for the intense discipline he would soon need.

Zuko hated it.

“This is for children, and old men,” he shouted after losing his balance yet again. “Azulon said that it’s useless to a warrior!”

“Azulon is no longer your mentor.” Roku said placidly, continuing with the exercise. “Again.”

Zuko growled in frustration, but did as he was told. Roku, he had learned, would not beat him as Azulon had done, but was inexorable in his teaching. To resist him was an exercise in maddening futility.

In time, Zuko came to enjoy the slow, intent movements of their daily tai chi exercises. He learned to control his breathing and blank his thoughts, focusing entirely on the duality of mind and body.

He didn’t truly appreciate Roku’s months of tai chi until Piandao, renowned blademaster and bladesmith both, arrived to begin his instruction on the art of the blade. He was, at last, fully recovered from his burns and back at full strength. Piandao, who was still more exacting than Roku had been, challenged the limits of that strength from day one.

Zuko took to it immediately. The sword moved as an extension of his body, and he found a freedom in its use that he had never experienced before. In a matter of weeks, Piandao suggested that he learn to work with two blades at once and Zuko liked that even better.

“It’s uncanny,” Piandao remarked one evening over a game of Pai Sho. “And yet, there is nothing supernatural about the boy’s progress. It is his discipline and his unflagging dedication which have allowed him to progress so quickly.”

Roku nodded thoughtfully, and placed his next tile on the board. “He is a remarkable young man,” he agreed. “But I am not so sure that it is his dedication alone.”

“Oh?” the bladesmith quirked a brow. “You believe there is more to it?”

“I do.” He met the other man’s gaze levelly. “I think that he is the next Avatar.”

Piando sucked in a sharp breath, knocking the board hard enough to ruin the game. “Are you certain?” he breathed.

“Not certain,” Roku answered. “Not yet.”

But he soon would be.

Piandao left at the end of Zuko’s second year as Roku’s student, and Roku resumed the Prince’s firebending instruction at last.

Zuko was no longer paralyzed in his bending; the intervening year had served its true purpose, and Roku was satisfied. After his success with Piandao, however, Zuko was incredibly frustrated to find that firebending was as difficult for him now as it had ever been before the Agni-Kai.

“Remember, Prince Zuko, that power in firebending comes from the breath, not the muscles. The breath becomes energy in the body. The energy extends past your limbs and becomes fire.” Roku sighed as Zuko went through the set once more, still making the same mistake and becoming increasingly angry with himself.

Roku shook his head. “Have you forgotten everything that you learned in the last year? Should we return to the study of tai chi, so that you can properly harness your breath?”

“No, Master Roku.” Zuko bent himself into a stiff bow, giving the appropriate response without letting go of any of his anger.

“Very well,” he said. “Again. And this time, remember your breath!”

Zuko took the time to center himself before starting the set over, and he kept it throughout the exercise. The difference in his bending was significant. The boy’s face glowed with pride when he finished, and Roku indulged himself in a rare show of approval.

Sozin, after all, must never know that Zuko had become like a son to him--or that Zuko now regarded Roku as a father. They’d never discussed it, but they hadn’t needed to. Zuko was intuitive enough to know his father’s delicate ego would not tolerate being usurped in any capacity.

The dragon arrived a week later.

The dragon’s appearance was both a boon and a bane. A boon, because Zuko found in Fang the friend that he’d never before been allowed to have. A boon, too, because it confirmed for Roku that Zuko was indeed the Avatar.

A bane, because it revealed Zuko’s true nature to Sozin as well.

The Firelord was far too astute to mistake the appearance of an animal spirit guide for anything other than what it was. Given his plans for the future, Sozin was thrilled to discover that he had the Avatar--the only one in the world who could possibly stand in his way--in his own house, and loyal to him.

No one told Zuko.

Firelord Sozin embraced his second son as he never had before, and the sudden acceptance from his true father was a heady thing, indeed. Zuko continued to work with Roku, but Sozin took a much greater interest in his son’ studies than he had before. Zuko was delighted; Roku was wary.

Roku had not abdicated his role as senior Firesage. He knew, from discussions he’d had with his leader and from the topics he’d been instructed to research, that Sozin was planning something unprecedented in their world. He knew it centered around the comet that would appear in their skies in a few short years, and the fleet of Naval ships discreetly growing on the western coast of the Fire Nation’s capitol island.

He knew it would spell disaster for the other nations, just as he knew that Zuko was the key to stopping it.

Once again, though, his hands were tied. He could not speak against the Firelord; to do so would be to end his own life. Nor could he attempt to warn the Prince. Zuko was zealous in his loyalty to his father, and would not hear a negative word spoken about him--not even if the word came from his beloved mentor. Instead, Roku did his best to guide Zuko, to nurture those inherent qualities which had so repulsed his father all those years ago without revealing their continued presence in his character.

Two more years passed in this fashion. Zuko was drawn further into his father’s sphere, and his relationship with Roku seemed to weaken apace. In the privacy of his own quarters, Roku despaired.

Zuko turned angry and conflicted once more, because he could not reconcile the vital truths he had learned from his mentor with the truths his father lived by. Roku’s influence had gone deep and he simply could not approve of his father’s cruel thirst for power no matter how loyal he was. He sought to ignore it instead.

When his father at last revealed the true depth and breadth of his plans, Zuko could ignore it no longer.

Azulon, who had been deeply jealous of the favor shown to his little brother, had cautioned against it from the moment that Zuko’s role in the world had become clear. “He is still too weak to do what must be done, Father,” he’d said, over and over. Sozin, who was not blind to Roku’s influence over his son, had agreed until now.

“We have only another year before the comet passes over us,” Sozin said firmly, addressing his private council. “It is time to bring Zuko fully into the family’s legacy, and secure his assistance in bringing it to pass.”

Azulon held his peace as a servant was sent to summon both Zuko and his mentor, knowing that to contradict his father now would be to earn disfavor for himself. He had not remained the Firelord’s favorite for so many years by being stupid. It was fortunate for him, then, that his brother had learned nothing.

Zuko entered the Firelord’s audience chamber a step behind Master Roku, as befitted their respective positions. Prince or not, Zuko was merely a student; Roku was a Master Firesage, and served as an advisor to the Firelord himself.

It wasn’t the first time that they had been summoned to participate in a council meeting, but it was the first time that they had been invited to attend Sozin’s private war council. Zuko was filled with hope and fire and the heady rush of being admitted to his father’s inner circle at last. Roku was full of dread, knowing that they had come to another pivotal moment, and that after this meeting, everything would change.

He was right.

“For hundreds of years, the Avatar has kept balance between the Water Tribes, Earth Kingdom, Fire Nation, and Air Nomads,” Sozin began when everyone had taken their seats around the long table. “As the master of all four elements, the Avatar has been the unbiased keeper of peace, and the undisputed authority on the spirit world. The Avatar cycle has ensured an unbroken line of advocates from every nation on the planet, and with the death of Avatar Kyoshi many years ago, the cycle turned back to us, the great Fire Nation.

“Yet the years passed, and no Avatar appeared among our people. No one manifested the ability to bend all four elements, and until recently we feared that the Avatar cycle had somehow been broken. Now, we not only know that an Avatar has indeed been born to the Fire Nation, but we know that the spirits chose to show their favor by giving us an Avatar out of the royal line.

The flame-shrouded figure rose from his throne, and Zuko’s wide, unblinking eyes followed the movement. “My son,” the Firelord said gravely. “Prince Zuko of the Fire Nation, it is time to embrace your destiny.” A few moments passed in utter silence, and then the Firelord went on. “You are not only a scion of our great family line. You represent the culmination of our great family, and will serve to cement our place in the world. You are the Avatar.”

Zuko stared at his father, unsure whether he’d heard the man correctly. This was not at all what he’d expected, and couldn’t possibly be true. But his father wasn’t done yet.

“Your birth into our family shows that the spirits recognize our supremacy in the world. That you were born to our family now, and coming into your power on the eve of the Great Comet, is a benediction of our rule. You see, Zuko, it is not your destiny to be a mediator between the nations, as your predecessors did. Your destiny is to unite all of the nations under a single banner: that of the Fire Nation!”

Roku felt the ice slithering through his veins as Sozin spoke, outlining his plans for the comet and his subjugation of the rest of the world. Roku had been expecting something along these lines and so was marginally prepared. He also had the benefit of decades of experience at maintaining a neutral expression, no matter what happened. It had served him well in Sozin’s court, though never before so well as it did now. He was sickened by the man’s avarice, and by the position in which he’d placed his son, but he remained as serene as he’d been while playing Pai Sho with Piandao.

Zuko, on the other hand, had not expected anything like this. He’d been completely broadsided, and had hardly any experience to draw from at all. His reactions played out across his face, broadcasting them as clearly as if he’d shouted them.

As the Firelord spoke of invading the Water Tribe on a massive scale, Zuko’s face went pale. As the Firelord spoke of the ease with which they would annihilate the peaceful Air Nomads, Zuko betrayed his revulsion with a thick swallow. And as the Firelord spoke eagerly of laying siege to Ba Sing Se, taking the Earth Kingdom stronghold no matter the cost in lives, Zuko began to shake.

Azulon, who had been stony-faced through the entire speech, now began to smile. It didn’t matter that Zuko was finally able to school his expression into passivity. It didn’t matter that he said all of the right words, at exactly the right times. The damage was done; they knew now that an Avatar Zuko would never fall in with their plans, and therefore would need to be neutralized.

His father’s full favor would return to him, where it belonged.

Roku, too, knew what Zuko had unwittingly wrought. It was a test of his will, that walk from the audience chamber to the Firesages’ wing of the palace, but he did it. To his everlasting pride, so did Zuko. They walked calmly, even slowly back to Zuko’s quarters, discussing matters of no import. As soon as they were behind closed doors, however, Zuko’s calm fell away and he looked at his mentor with wild eyes.

“I can’t do this,” he said, panic clear in his voice. “I can’t be the Avatar. There’s a mistake. There has to be. And even if I were, I can’t--I won’t--not even for him. I suspected something, Master Roku, but not this!”

“Be calm,” Roku said, placing his hands on the young man’s shoulders. “Breathe.”

“But--”

Roku shook him, surprising him into silence, and said again, “Breathe!”

Zuko obediently drew in a deep breath and sought his center. It was difficult to find but the doing of it was calming, as Roku had known it would be.

“Now you must listen, Prince Zuko.” He paused, and Zuko nodded. “You are indeed the Avatar.”

“But master--”

“You must listen!” He shook him again, this time raising his voice enough to make Zuko’s mouth drop open. Roku had never before raised his voice. “You are the Avatar,” he repeated, once more in his normal, placid tone. “ have known it since Fang came to you, and so has your father.”

Zuko’s expression creased with hurt and confusion, and Roku sighed sadly.

“I could not have told you. I have known for a long time what your father is, and to reveal your nature too soon would have been to your detriment.”

Roku paused, allowing Zuko to realize the truth of that for himself. “And now?” Zuko asked, and was proud of the calm control he’d achieved.

“Now, you must leave.”

His calm disintegrated and his eyes widened with panic once more. “Leave?”

“Your father and your brother are both too shrewd to have missed your initial reaction. Everyone in that room knew that you would never be the puppet your father wishes to make of you.”

Zuko breathed deeply, seeking that control. “He’s going to try to kill me, isn’t he?” he asked.

“No.” Roku shook his head with a sad smile. “No, he would undoubtedly go to great lengths to keep you alive.”

“Because he knows that if I die,” Zuko said slowly, “the Avatar cycle will continue and a new Avatar will be born to the Air Nomads.”

“Yes.”

“Where can we go?”

“Not we, Prince Zuko. You.”

“Master Roku, no!” Zuko shook his head vehemently. “You have to come with me. If you stay, my father will know you helped me. Your life will be forfeit.”

Roku nodded serenely, acknowledging the likelihood of that outcome. “I have known this day would come since the moment I saw the dragon.”

“But--”

“You must take Fang, and flee as fast and as far as you can.”

Zuko stared at his mentor, feeling a cold numbness steal over him. “I’m never going to see you again, am I?” he asked, as calmly as Roku.

“No,” the man confirmed. “Now go. You’ve stayed too long already; I don’t know how quickly your father will move against you, and I want you to have as much of a lead as possible.”

“My swords--”

“There’s no time, Zuko!” Roku shoved a small pouch into Zuko’s hand, then pushed him towards the door. “Just go! Find Fang, and go!”

#Avatar The Last Airbender #au #avatar!zuko #sozin #azulon #firesage ruko #back story #flashback #circe writes

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arcanesupern0va · 5 years ago

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Rick In The Water; Ch7: Shameful Metaphors

Summary: There’s some fluffs, there some action. I might be just a little too proud of how this chapter came out.

A/N: Rickshank Rickdemption? Never heard of him. CW: Bastardization of a whole ass episode for my own selfish gains tbh Pairing: Rick Sanchez/Reader Word Count: 5529

My ao3

Masterlist

|Ch6: Do You Feel It?|

Rick looked like a goddamn kid in a candy shop. When we crossed the threshold, his pockets bulging with his Monopoly money, he took off ahead of me, shouting about someone called Roy.

“Rick! Rick wait!” I called after him, trying to cut through the crowd and keep up with the oversized child that Rick had suddenly become. He paused briefly, allowing me to finally catch up. I surveyed the room, astounded by how it enormous it seemed. To our left was an expansive bar. Two large arcades ran adjacent to it, emanating with sounds of laughter and loud sound effects. The building had multiple stories, all accentuating the large planetary statue situated in the center of the room. More sounds of mirth and excitement rained down on us from above, leaving me to assume it was multiple levels of rows and rows of video games.

“Isn’t it amazing?” Rick looked proud like he had come up with the whole place himself.

“Ah, if it isn’t my friend Rick Sanchez,” a large slug-like creature called warmly as he slithered over to us.

“Slitherino, buddy! How the hell are you?” Rick greeted him jovially, shaking the creatures… hand? I guess?

“Doin’ great, my friend. Business is booming ever since that commercial you did with us. Who would’ve thought an interdimensionally wanted criminal could bring in so many kids?” Slitherino chortled. “And who do you have here tonight?” He raised his brow at Rick as he regarded me.

“Slither- this is Nova, Nova this Siltherino Slimeofogus the Fourth, owner of the greatest establishment this side of the galaxy,” Rick boasted.

“Now, now Rick. You’re not trying to get extra flurbos out of me are you?” Siltherino asked, eyeing him seriously before breaking out into a huge smile. “Because it’s working. Here you son of a bitch, you guys have a great time.” He handed us a large bucket of coins from within his apparently gelatinous body. He bid us farewell as he slithered away, leaving Rick to count the contents quickly.

“One thousand ninety-nine, two thousand. Two thousand flurbos Nova!” he exclaimed as he slid the coins back into the bucket. “Are you hungry? They’ve got zurbos here now, so fucking good Nova.” Rick gushed. I barely recognized the man next to me as his eyes flitted all around the room. I shook my head, earning me a one way trip to a game called Roy 2: Dave. “The line was ridiculous last time I was here,” Rick marveled, “You should play!” He deposited some of our flurbos in the machine before sitting me down in the chair and dropping a helmet over my eyes.

“Dave! Come out here and eat dinner with us!” a voice called out to me. I closed my binder, rushing out to the living room to find my big brother Roy and my parents sitting at their TV trays. “Oh sweetheart, you’re just in time! We’re getting to watch the newest episode of Planet Music!”

In high school, I met a girl named Arabelle, an outcast just like me. We spent nearly every day after school hanging out by a waterfall where we got high and talked about music, art and anything else that came to mind.

I didn’t stay friends with her for long, my parents didn’t approve of her dark sense of humor and overuse of sarcasm. I knew they just wanted the best for me. They bought me a guitar and lessons instead and allowed me to spend all hours of the night practicing. My brother Roy and I formed a band, along with a couple of his friends from school. Our first single was a smash hit, propelling us into the limelight.

Arabelle and I reconnected after a show one night. I forgot how much I missed her and we stayed up the entire night talking like we used to. She told me how heartbreaking it was to lose my friendship. I apologized and worked my way into her pants that night.

Our second album flopped, and Roy and I started fighting constantly. Arabelle and I had started dating, and she insisted I was the talent of the band. I listened to her, leaving my brother and his friends to seek new highs and new ways to become creative.

I joined the twenty-seven club, dying of an overdose.

GAME OVER.

“What the fuck?!” I screamed as the helmet was removed from my head.

“Only twenty-seven?” Rick commented, reading the stats on the screen. “You at least led a fun life I suppose,” he shrugged.

“Everything was so real. I felt myself die,” I trembled. My knees shook as I stood up and tried to reorient myself with my real body.

“You’re alright Nova,” Rick smirked, “Now get outta my way, it’s my turn!” He tore off my reward tickets, handing them off to me and depositing a couple more coins into the machine. He fitted the helmet over his head and his eyes unsettlingly rolled back in his head. I watched the screen, watched the body I had thought was my own as it fought with its sibling Roy, become the most popular kid in school before completely running from home at the age of sixteen.

“You didn’t do much better, Mr. Age Twenty-Five,” I teased as Rick pulled the helmet off in frustration, grabbing his own tickets. My grip on reality had finally returned after watching Rick’s version of Dave’s life and I was actually eager for another go.

“How was I supposed to know the bungee cord was going to break!?” he shot back. “These games, some of them really just want you to keep pumping flurbos into them,” he growled, stalking off toward what I could only assume was the space equivalent of Skee Ball. He pumped more flurbos into the game, picking up the hovering puck and chucking it skillfully. It bounced off of the holographic mountains before hitting a secret passageway and setting an alarm off.

“I take it you’ve played these games a couple of times,” I mused, watching him perform trick shots as the machine produced ticket after ticket.

“Well, if you look at the screen, that’ll be my high score,” he pointed proudly at the marquee that read ‘HI-SCORE: ARSE” followed by a series of illegible symbols.

“Arse, really?” I asked, trying to stifle my giggles to sound terribly unamused.

“It stands for Actually Rick Sanchez,” he told me flatly.

“Oh, what’s the E for then?”

“Yeah, I mean, come on Nova, I had to,” he shrugged.

“I mean, if you already went that far…” I trailed up, grinning up at him.

*+*

When he had finally spent his last flurbo, he begrudgingly walked us out to the ship to head home. Today had been incredible, with its high and low points but weirdly enough, the trip to Blips and Chitz felt like an actual date. I was going to comment as such, but we were being approached by an alarming number of bug-like creatures.

“Rick Sanchez, we have you surrounded,” one called out. Rick froze, scanning the area to find the bug creatures claims were true. “If you come quietly, I can assure you no danger will befall your Nova.”

“Rick, what is going on?” I hissed as he pulled me in close and pulled out his portal gun.

“Don’t even think about it, Sanchez!” the bug shouted, “We have you in our sights, and you’ll be dead before you even try.”

“Goddammit, Slitherino,” Rick snarled, releasing me to confront the bugs.

“You’ve committed numerous crimes against the Federation. I urge you to stand down,” the bug declared again as he closed in on us, close enough for me to make out his furry legs and large wings.

“Let me send her home,” Rick demanded. “I’ll come with you, just let me send her home.”

“Rick, no-” I protested before he cut me off

“Nova, just be quiet, please,” he glared down at me.

“If you come peacefully, you may send her home in your ship,” the bug compromised nonchalantly.

“Yeah, that’s not how it’s going down,” he snarled, pulling out his portal gun again. As the bugs opened fire around us, he deployed a shield around us. “This is not going to last long enough for me to explain any of this to you.” He opened a portal on the ground behind me, discreetly shoving his portal gun in my hands. “Nova, just trust me, I-I’m sending you somewhere safe,” he murmured, kissing my forehead before shoving me through the opening. I heard the shield shatter as I fell through, gunfire coming to an immediate stop as the portal closed above me. Shellshocked, I realized I was in an oddly familiar, dingy hallway and a door with a rusted peeker stood in front of me. I stood quickly, knocking urgently on it. When I received no answer, I sighed in frustration knocking the same knock that Beth and I shared. The peeker slid open to reveal the same pair of angry eyes before quickly opening, Scar Rick grabbing me as I crumpled to the floor.

*+*

“Rick!”

The world was spinning around me as I came to, Scar watching intently from across the room as I sat up in a panic which served to only make the spinning faster. I was on a thin cot, surrounded by similar weapons to the ones I’d seen in Rick’s garage. Rick. The thought of him propelled me from the cot, heading for the door. I had no idea how I was going to save him, but damn if I wasn’t going to try.

“H-Hey, Nova, it’s okay. Calm down,” Scar said gruffly, soothing me simply by sharing the same voice as Rick. My legs were weak as I stood, and he grabbed me hesitantly before I fell again, sitting me back on the cot.

“The hell it is! Some fucking b-bug creatures took Rick- They’re gonna kill him,” I shouted hysterically, making another move to stand. Scar grabbed my shoulder, roughly forcing me back onto my cot.

“Nova, I know. This is the third time you’ve woken up screaming about it,” he assured me, grabbing a dirty canteen and offering it to me. My mouth was a desert and I drank from it greedily. “H-Hey, calm down. Drowning won’t bring Rick back,” he remarked smartly, gently tugging the canteen out of my grasp.

“Wh-What am I going to do? I have to get him back,” I panicked, bunching my legs up into my chest as I slowly rocked myself back and forth. I had always thought of Rick as untouchable like he was always five steps ahead of every potential foe.

“Why don’t you tell me everything that happened after you left here three days ago,” he asked with surprising calm.

“Three fucking days ago? How long have I been passed out?” I asked, breaking out of my grasp on my legs, moving to stand up again.

“You passed out at my door,” he said, his gruff tone returning as he blocked me from making my way to the door by outstretching his arm across my chest, resulting in me stumbling back onto the cot. “You’ve been in and out these past few days, screaming about Rick and monster bugs when you were conscious. This is the most lucid you’ve been yet.”

“Wh-What were those creatures?” I asked him, just the memories of the way they surrounded us stilling me to my core.

“Those were most likely the Groflamites,” he sighed, standing up and returning to the other side of the room. A portal gun laid in pieces on the table he approached, the glass on the top completely shattered. He noticed as I stared at in horror, my only way directly to Rick completely destroyed. “You fell on it when you passed out,” he explained, “I’ve been trying to fix it, but I haven’t had one in over a decade.”

“Y-You can fix it though, right?” I asked nervously, unable to take my eyes off of it.

“I should be able to, I have to go out and get some parts. I just hadn’t been able to yet, I didn’t want you to wake up alone,” he admitted sheepishly, “I-I know my N-Nova wasn’t a fan of that.”

“Oh.”

Clearing his throat, he continued, “If you think you’ll be okay for a couple of hours, I can run out now. There are just a couple of pieces that need to be replaced, I promise I’ll be quick.”

“C-Can I just come with you?” I asked anxiously, not trusting myself enough to be left alone with my thoughts.

“Sure.”

+𝚁𝚒𝚌𝚔+

Fucking asshole. That fucking piece of fucking shit. I’m gonna- I’m gonna burn every fucking Blips and Chitz to the fucking ground when I finally get the fuck out of here.

The first order of business, unfortunately, figuring out where in the hell here was.

It looked like I was in my garage, but that couldn’t be right. Key details were missing, my newest tinker toy, for instance, not to mention Nova’s crudely drawn smiley face on my work desk.

“Alright assholes, what in the fuck are you waiting for?” I shouted into the ether. There was no response at first until a tall Groflamite knocked on the garage door.

“Hello, Rick,” he remarked coolly, leaning against the door as he closed it behind him. “That was a cute little trick, sending your Nova off with your portal gun. You know we have to hunt her down now right?” he told me perfectly politely, although the threat of it was apparent.

“Good luck,” I remarked darkly, turning back to my workbench even though there wasn’t really anything to focus my attention on.

“We already have a good idea of where you sent her, hard to believe a Rick would trust another Rick with his most treasured possession, but I guess you’re an odd one through and through,” he commented, inspecting the fur on the back of his hand.

“Tr-Treasured- possession?” I sputtered. He had to be bluffing. Scar was an old friend, back from before the council formed. The council hadn’t been very sympathetic to the kidnapping of his Nova, ultimately opting not to rescue her to keep themselves laid low. He wasn’t going to let another Rick go through that.

Well, fuckwad better not.

“Come now Rick, let's not pretend. We both know you love that human girl,” The Groflammite told me flatly.

“Love is just a chemical reaction,” I recited, bored.

“Mmhm, but yet you still love her.”

“I-I do not!” I lied.

“You don’t have to lie to me, Rick,” he shook his head, “Go ahead and lie to yourself all you want, but we’re in your head. I’ve seen a lot more of your dirty thoughts than I ever wanted to, and somehow they all featured her. And a couple of giraffes I won’t be asking any questions about.”

“Get to the point, bug.”

“I’d think the smartest man in the universe would know what I wanted.”

Jesus fucking christ this fucking douche.

+Nova+

I stuck close to Scar as he led us through the bustling city of Shingrap. He didn’t have much to say, not completely unlike my Rick on a bad day. Through a particularly tight crowd, he grabbed my hand tightly, and for a moment, I forgot where I was and who he was. His hands exhibited the same coarseness, and for even the smallest second I felt safe. Maybe that’s why he sent me here? Did he know he was going to die? Did he send me to this Rick to offer him something he’d lost?

No.

He was far too cocky to allow for such planning. He must’ve known this Rick would be able to help, or something. I just wish I knew what to do. Scar must’ve realized I had started spiraling because he turned around quickly and grabbed me by the shoulders.

“Nova, I need you to focus, we’re almost there.”

‘There’ was a filthy pawnshop. Why was I always ending up in the dirtiest parts of space? All of these people with their illusions of grandeur when it came to space should feel lucky to not have a Rick in their lives to completely shatter them. Scar and the clerk spoke in low tones as I investigated the shop, never straying out of Scar’s eyesight. He grabbed my hand again, his transaction apparently complete as he led me back through the city. As we cut the corner to the alley that would lead us back to his safe house, I spotted a Groflammite scanning the city gun in hand.

“Rick,” I whispered sharply, pulling on his hand sharply as the bug’s gaze was moving in our direction. Scar found him immediately, breaking into a sprint down the alley, shooting one of the lecherous bulbous headed creatures my Rick and I had encountered our first time here. We made it safely back to his building, but as Scar sealed the door behind us, a quiet fluttering of wings assured us they had spotted us. We ran up the stairs as they slammed their weight into the door. Scar locked his safe room door behind us before starting on the repairs to the portal gun. A large slam from the floors below told us they had made it through the first door and it was only a matter of seconds before they were at this one.

“Start grabbing anything you see with a trigger,” Scar growled as he inserted the glass bulb on the top of the gun, opening a small door to work on the circuitry. I grabbed every weapon I could get my hands on, shoving them into a small pile in the center of the room. A loud bang on the safe room door made me jump out of my skin, but Scar was slamming the panel on the gun shut, smirking. “Let’s get the hell out of here baby girl,” he murmured tenderly, grabbing me by my waist and shooting a portal under the pile of guns. We followed the guns through just as the bugs broke through the door, dropping us right onto a marble floor.

Goddammit.

“Nova N-682,” Riq IV called from behind me. I brushed my hair out of my face, huffing as I turned to face him. “Where is your Rick?” he asked curiously, looking around as if he expected him to erupt from another portal.

“Rick Alpha-392,” Scar growled up at him viciously.

“Oho, you’ve renounced your Rick for Rick Beta-125?” Rick Prime grinned down at us, “Now there’s a match I never even thought to put money on.”

“There’s a name I haven’t heard in centuries,” Riq IV laughed darkly. “What brings you back here? Want to put this Nova’s head on the chopping block too?” Scar roared, picking up one of his guns and aiming at the council member.

“You fucking killed her, not me,” Scar snarled. I reached up gently, lowering the gun with a gentle look.

“Not here, not now.” I soothed him. He relented, turning away from the sneering Ricks atop their thrones. “Rick- N-682 has been arrested by the F-Federation.” Riq IV’s face darkened as he regarded me, before turning to his fellow council members. They deliberated a moment, before coming to a decision and turning back to me.

“So he dies. I’m sorry Nova.”

+𝚁𝚒𝚌𝚔+

“So they’ve spotted Rick Beta-125?” The Groflammite spoke into his watch smugly. “Excellent, were they able to apprehend Nova and the portal gun?”

Shit. Fuck. Shit fuck fuck shit.

Nova.

The bug’s watch murmured again, his face falling as he listened. “They got away? What do we even pay you assholes for?” he spat angrily into the watch. He sighed, regaining his composure before returning his even gaze to me. “Looks like you got lucky Rick, but this is your last chance to be useful.”

“I’m never useful if I can help it,” I told him darkly. Nova being safe was enough to keep me from throttling the stupid bug, but the option was still there. He approached the garage door, watching a memory play in front of him.

“That’s her, isn’t it?” he pointed. The memory on full display was the two of us in my ship, her mounted on my lap and kissing me like it was the last kiss we’d ever share.

It might be.

“Yeah,” I murmured, forcing the dark thought away. I watched the memory, trying to resist the emotion it was instilling in me, the doubt, the fear. What if we never got to finish what we started? What if I couldn’t get out of here?

“You can watch this right now and tell me you don’t love her?” he asked conversationally, as though we were old friends discussing curtains.

“I-I can,” I lied again, not wanting to give him the satisfaction. The memory switched, playing the memory of saving her from Rick U-236 and having to see that fuck on top of her, touching parts of her I still hadn’t had the pleasure of infuriated me.

“Ah, I see. Of course. You still think she doesn’t care for you the same way.” The same conversational tone, but now I just wanted to rip his voice box out. The memory changed again, this time of the first time I took her out into space.

“St-Stop!” I begged, tearing my eyes away from her awestruck face.

“Just tell me how you figured out portal technology Rick and I swear, I’ll let you see her one last time,” he urged gently. A door appeared between us.

“If I show you, you have to promise not to hurt her,” I conceded weakly, trying to ignore the moisture accumulating around my eyes.

“No harm will befall Nova, Rick. You have my word,” he assured me. Still, I knew he was lying. I decided to play along, opening the door to step into another garage, this one being from the home I shared with Beth’s mother.

Another Rick stood before us, scribbling furiously onto a notepad in front of him as he made adjustments to the crude device that I would soon turn into the portal gun.

“H-Hey Rick,” a voice came from the doorway. A twenty-year-old Nova stood there, eyeing the Rick in front of her nervously.

“O-Oh hey Nova. Beth’s not here,” Past Me brushed her off callously. Her face fell as she approached the workbench to investigate what I had been working on.

“I-I know, I came to see what you were working on,” she told me timidly. God, this was too much, too hard to watch.

“It’s a portal gun,” I told her, extending the device for her to inspect. “I think I almost have the formula right. Just a couple more days and I should be able to traverse the galaxy in an instant.”

“Wow,” she murmured, eyeing the scribbles I had made. “R-Rick, I think your equations wrong here,” she told me hesitantly, pointing to a small error in math I had made.

“Shit, you’re right.” I picked up the portal gun, adjusting the error before pulling the trigger. A green circle appeared on the wall, another four inches to the right. I tossed an apple through, only to have it reappear through the second portal in the same condition. “I-I did it,” I murmured, awestruck. “W-We did it.” I looked at her, beaming as I pulled her into a tight embrace only to quickly push her away. “Hold on,” I paused, sticking my arm through the hole only for it to also appear unharmed on the other side.

“So that’s it?” The Groflammite asked eagerly, running up to my desk to start taking pictures of the equation scribbled on my notepad. He uploaded it quickly, announcing to his superiors that’d he’d gotten it. A devilish grin erupted on my face as the bugs on the other end of his headset stopped replying.

Thank God.

“You know, watching that brilliantly concocted lie made me realize something.” I grinned wickedly at the smug bug.

“L-Lie?!” he exclaimed.

The walls of the garage fell around us as my current garage formed around the fake memory. “You’re probably right, I do love my Nova, I love her more than I’ve loved anything before,” I conceded with a shrug. “But if you’d done any research, you would’ve realized two things.” He tried contacting his supervisors again, to no avail. “I left Nova when she was sixteen you idiot, and more importantly, for all of the strengths she has to offer me, she knows jack shit when it comes to science. That math would have looked like absolute gibberish to her.”

“What’s happening, what did you do?” the bug panicked.

“I didn’t do anything, you were the one who uploaded a virus from a fake memory,” I told him with a shrug.

“Get me out of his head!” he shouted into his watch, “It was fake, it was all fake!”

“They won’t be answering,” I told him simply. I raised my own watch to my mouth, mocking his serious tone as I spoke, “Go ahead and pull me outta here guys.”

It was a curious feeling, being in a bug body, but I played it off well until a team of SEAL Ricks descended from the ceiling, shooting every Groflamite they saw. I ducked down behind the chair, reaffixing the brain switching helmet to my head as they shot my original body directly between the eyes.

Well, that kind of sucked. Poor old bastard.

Since they weren’t exactly here on a rescue mission, I aimed the device at one of the SEAL Ricks. I injected my conscious into his brain, surprisingly thankful for the roominess of it. I took out the Groflamite I had been previously occupying before taking out the remaining SEAL Ricks, grabbing the brainalyzer and climbing the rope back up to their ship.

After a series of Rick switching, I was finally back on the Citadel, at the helm of Control. I portalled the entire fucking thing directly into the galactic federal fucking prison.

God, I’m such a fucking badass.

Chaos poured around me as I made my way to the council, knowing if Scar was going to take her anywhere, it would be here. Despite his history with the council, it was still the safest place to hide from the federation. I just had to hope my hunch was right. Worst come to worst, I was going to be able to kill two birds with one stone. Take out the Federation and that stupid ass council, sure, why not. I found Quantum Rick trying to flee amongst the chaos and knowing my only way in there with the least amount of resistance would be as a Rick they recognized, I performed one last swap, smashing the brainalyzer as I took off down the Council hall.

“Get your hands off of her,” I bellowed, crossing the threshold to a confusing scene. Riq IV and Zeta Alpha Rick were pulling her in opposite directions, apparently trying to decide which would be escaping with her. Scar laid dead on the floor and with the surprise of my appearance, they released her abruptly. Nova fell to Scar’s side, openly weeping as she looked up at me with a fury I’d never seen before.

“Did you come to finish the job?” she screamed at me. “You don’t have to worry. He’s fucking dead.” She stood up, grabbing one of the, surprisingly, many guns littering the floor. “You killed my Rick, you fucking piece of shit.”

“N-Nova, wait-”

“I loved him you fucking piece of shit. And now I’ll never get to fucking tell him,” she sobbed. To my luck, the gun she chose had a harsh kickback, causing the shot to miss my head, but only by a hair. I mussed my hair, returning to the look she was accustomed to before pulling the pretentious council robe off, showing I was strapped with as many stray weapons I could grab from my previous bodies.

“Nova, please don’t fucking shoot at me,” I shouted, more annoyed than angry.

“R-Rick-” In her shock, Riq IV was able to grab her, holding his gun to her head.

“You just can’t keep a dumb Rick down can you?” he seethed, backing away to the window. I quickly took out the other Ricks surrounding us, leaving only one shit stain left.

“Let her go,” I growled through gritted teeth.

“Let me tell you what’s going to happen here, N-682.” Riq IV started, slowly getting closer to the window. “I’m going to take your Nova, and you’re not going to shoot at us because you’re not going to risk her insignificant life,” he sneered. My eyes locked with Nova’s trying to find the best course of action that would kill Riq IV with minimal damage to her.

“Who’s to say I won’t let that happen, dick. You truly underestimate how badly I want you dead,” I told him darkly, not looking at her.

“Rick!”

“You won’t kill her, not every Rick can just kill their Nova. Especially not when they love her,” he taunted. “Luckily for me, I never had a Nova, I have no attachment to her kind.”

“I’ve only had her for a couple of months, I lived my whole life without her, I think I can go a couple more decades,” I sighed and turned to her, “Nothing personal sweetheart, I’d just rather have him dead.”

“You fucking asshole,” she sobbed, turning away from me into Riq IV’s chest.

“Oh, maybe I could get used to this,” Riq IV said deviously, lowering his weapon for the briefest of seconds as Nova stared up at him before kneeing him right in the groin. As she ducked out of the way, I took my open shot, getting him directly between the eyes. The shock stilled us as we watched the Council leader fall gracelessly to the ground dead. We stared at each other before she came to her senses and launched herself into my arms.

“Nova, I’m sorry,” I murmured, kissing her desperately. “I didn’t mean it, I promise. I’m so sorry.”

“Rick, I know it’s okay, I know,” she assured me, burying her face in my neck as she clung to me. “Please, please just take me home.”

“I will baby, I will,” I told her, “I just have to finish what I started.” I pulled my portal gun away from Scar, silently thanking him for protecting her for as long as he had.

“He saved me, you know,” she murmured, staring down at him sadly. “I was going to kill them, the council a-and I think they knew that. H-He sacrificed himself for me.”

“I knew he would.” I kissed her head, opening a portal into the level nine control room. A groflamite appeared, trying to stop us but I shot him quickly.

“Wh-where are we?” she asked nervously, staring at the dead bug on the ground.

“This would be the level nine control room, I came here to topple a government,” I told her with a shrug. She stared at me with wide eyes as I typed into the computer, accessing their economy with far too little button clicks. “What?” I asked as she gaped at me. “I’d prefer it if we didn’t have to do this again.”

“S-So are you gonna like, redirect their missiles? Or disintegrate their space fleet?” she suggested.

“You sound like Morty and Summer,” I rolled my eyes. “No, I prefer to do things the easy way. Like, change a one to a zero.” The operation complete, I opened another portal, this time directly into my garage, pulling Nova along behind me just in time to watch as ships took off from Earth. Damn, they moved fast.

“D-Dad? Nova?” Beth said, sounding stunned from the doorway. “Where have you been? We haven’t seen you in over a week! There was a new government, they gave Jerry a job but apparently, their entire economy just collapsed. So, it looks like he’s out of a job again.”

I looked between Beth and her best friend, opting to just shrug. “I was out.”

“By the way Nova, Ryan’s been looking for you. He wants you to come home,” she rolled her eyes. “You know you’re welcome here as long as you need, right?”

Nova nodded, still shellshocked from waging a brief but entire war against two different governments. “M-Maybe it's time I go home,” she murmured sadly. She remained silent as Beth sighed at us both, shaking her head as she left the room.

“Y-You okay?” I asked hesitantly as she stared blankly ahead. She shook her head sharply, breaking herself from her train of thought and smiled weakly.

“Are you?”

”I’m better now that you’re safe,” I murmured, pulling her into my arms. We were silent for a while, just enjoying each other’s embrace. “I love you, Nova,” I murmured into her hair as we swayed. She stopped, looking up at me longingly before returning her face to my chest.

”I love you too.”

+Ch8: What It Is To Burn+

#rick and morty #rick and morty fanfiction #rick sanchez x reader #rick sanchez/reader

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